


Recovery Is An Ocean

by Tori_Scribbles



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Brenda adopts a cat..., Coping via Humor, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Humor, Gally Has A Heart, Gladers as a Family, Hurt Newt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Implied/Referenced Torture, It's not all angsty, LGBTQ Characters, M/M, MazeCat, Morning After, Multi, Newt Lives, Picks Up Right Where The Death Cure Ends, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Roadtrip but on a boat..., Safe Haven, Survivor Guilt, The Death Cure Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, What else matters ammirite, a boat, slowburn, teenagers being teenagers, these characters deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Scribbles/pseuds/Tori_Scribbles
Summary: It's over.The made it out alive.They have their new society.Their safe haven.But at what cost.What have they left behind?.Picking up where The Death Cure (Movie) left off, those who are left, are helping start a new world but Thomas can't help but think about the one they've left behind. The death of humanity still going on across the sea.A death that he has a cure for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ghosts that Linger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131304) by [Tattered_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered_Dreams/pseuds/Tattered_Dreams). 
  * Inspired by [The Eden Switch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517883) by [Tattered_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered_Dreams/pseuds/Tattered_Dreams). 



> Shoutout to [Tattered_Dreams](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered_Dreams/pseuds/Tattered_Dreams) for proofreading and encouraging me with this story. Also, she gave me the title so you can blame her for the mess that this will become, especially given that this story contains four of her OC's, one from [The Eden Switch](http://archiveofourown.org/series/930270) and three from [Ghosts That Linger.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12131304) So, I definitely recommend you check those out. I should also add, the first chapter of Ghosts That Linger is canon in this fic, but only the first chapter.
> 
> Also, I should mention everyone in the TMR discord chat, you know who you are! You're all awesome. Thank you for giving me so many ideas.
> 
> This fic is also posted on Fanfiction [here.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12829470/1/Recovery-Is-An-Ocean)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so picture that after his long sad walk along the beach, Thomas heads out to stand on the deck of Vince's wrecked boat. That's when this story starts.

Thomas stared out at the island absently, his mind a million miles away as the soft, salty waves lapped at the side of the boat.

He’d read the letter. And then he’d read it again and again.

He’d asked Vince if anyone else was in need. He’d asked Minho, Fry and even Gally for their opinions. Thomas had even listened to Harriet, Brenda, Aris and Jorge’s less biased thoughts on the matter.

But they’d all basically said the same thing.

The same thing that Teresa had said.

That their opinions or thoughts didn’t matter. The cure was Thomas’ to with as he pleases and Newt would have trusted his judgment.

It was Sonya of all people who’d originally given him the idea. He’d been talking to Vince, asking him if anyone else was sick when she’d quietly stepped in—she seemed to do so much quietly nowadays.

It was the same day that Thomas had woken up, a quiet moment during the campfire, he’d told Vince about the cure, that he had it and he had nothing to do with it. Sonya had interrupted, with a soft “I thought someone would have told you. But they haven’t… We have him. Newt. We brought him back.”

After Thomas had left to go after WCKD, Minho, Gally and Frypan had taken him back to the berg and Sonya had refused to give up hope on him. Everyone else had said it was too late, but there was something in Sonya that had seemingly broken during her time as a prisoner and backed up by Harriet’s daring look; nobody had gotten in her way. So, in the two weeks that Thomas had been unconscious, Sonya had been going back to the ship, changing IV’s and simultaneously forgetting almost everything that Mary had taught her about being a medic.

But what stuck with Thomas, crazy or not, was that she refused to give up hope.

Now, he looked down at the vial in his hands, the warm rays of sun glinting off of the electric blue serum inside made it look so much more… mundane. Like this wasn’t the answer to so many people’s problems, like people hadn’t killed or been killed over it.

He drew it back into his fist, closing his fingers around it tightly and with a heavy sigh, he looked down, over the rails at the battered, derelict ship. It was a complete rust bucket, which had somehow made this entire new civilization possible. It was pretty impressive.

From the moment Sonya had said they’d brought him back, Thomas’ mind had been made up. A part of him wondered if it was a waste of such a valuable cure; giving it to a dead person. But for the most part, he didn’t care. He was going to do it anyway.

Soft footfalls came across the deck behind him and Thomas glanced up to see that Brenda had come to stand next to him. With her hands in her pockets as she too looked out towards the island with a calm look on her face and Thomas got the impression that she liked being at sea better than on the sand.

“Have you decided?” she spoke the words softly, barely above a whisper but the weight behind them seemed to hang in the air.

Thomas clenched his jaw and gave the sharpest of nods. Brenda didn’t look the slightest bit surprised, she just stepped back to let him walk past. He moved on autopilot across the deck, through the maze of corridors and to the cabin to where Newt was.

He hesitated slightly at the end of the passage. Minho, Fry, Gally, Harriet, Aris, Jorge and even Vince were all hanging around outside the cabin, clearly waiting for something, probably him.

Brenda moved past him, her hand brushing his for a second before she joined the rest of the group. Everyone looked up at Thomas with varying degrees of desperation and expectancy. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words came.

What could be said to make this better?

Instead, he moved past them, lingering only slightly as Frypan reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

As Thomas stepped inside the cabin and his eyes were drawn immediately to the bed and even after everything, it felt as though something inside of him broke a little.

This was the first time he’d seen him since the plaza.

Newt lay on the bed, quiet and still. His pale grey skin didn’t make the dark veins from the flare any less prominent but Thomas’ eyes moved past that. To how gaunt his once slender, but healthy body looked.

Sonya was standing next to the bed, fiddling seemingly unnecessarily with a bag of IV fluid that was connected to the cannula just below Newt’s elbow. She looked up as he stepped further into the room, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy like she hadn’t slept in days.

“I won’t stop,” she said, her voice small and broken, but a defiant glint still strong in her eyes and Thomas didn’t doubt her.

“I’m not asking you to,” he replied, holding up the vial of cure between his forefinger and his thumb; watching as Sonya’s eyes widened hopefully.

She spun around, fumbling through her bag for her bag of medical supplies for a minute before coming up with a slightly battered, but functional auto-injector. With trembling hands, she held it out to him.

“Into the muscle on his thigh,” she instructed softly, “it’ll work faster.” Thomas nodded slightly. Stepping forward, he took the injector, connecting the vial the device made a small hiss and Thomas found himself holding his breath as the light flashed green.

He knew that some people on the island thought this was stupid. Illogical. A waste, even.

And it probably was.

But Thomas didn’t care.

If he was going to give the cure to anyone; it was going to be Newt. It was always going to be Newt.

Thomas perched on the edge of the bed and before he could second-guess himself any further, he pressed the needle through Newt’s pants leg and straight into his thigh. He waited until the light flashed again and all of the serum had left the vial before pulling it slowly away, letting the vial rest in his lap for a moment as he looked down at his friend.

It was done.

The cure was gone.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation finally catching up to him but for the briefest of seconds, he could have sworn he saw Newt’s chest rise. Writing it off as his mind playing tricks on him, Thomas turned away. He reached out to set the injector on Sonya’s vacated chair and everything happened at once.

Newt’s body jerked violently in the sheets. Sonya gave a small scream of surprise and Thomas whipped back around so fast, he nearly fell off of the edge of the bed.

Newt’s body—no,  _Newt_ shot upright with a strangled breath. Reaching out to steady himself, he grabbed hold of Thomas' arm tightly. His eyes darting around in panic, fingernails biting into Thomas’ skin as his breaths came out in sharp wheezes.

Hearing the commotion, everyone who was waiting in the corridor rushed inside but faltered in the doorway, their eyes widening at the scene in front of them.

“Holy fucking shit!” Brenda exclaimed and her outburst seemed to snap everyone out of it.

Thomas twisted his arms around to take Newt’s hands to stop him from trying to struggle in his blind panic. He was vaguely aware of Sonya barking orders but he couldn’t focus on anything but the person in front of him.

“Newt?” he shouted, desperation clear in his voice. “Newt? It’s Thomas, can you hear me? Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

Newt faltered at the sound of Thomas’ voice, his face calming for a second. He looked as though he was going to say something but before he could get the words out a strange vacant expression settled on his face and for a moment it was eerie. Until it wasn’t. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell heavily back against the mattress, his body jerking and spasming uncontrollably.

“Roll him onto his side!” Sonya barked, rushing forwards to help pull Newt over as he convulsed. “Where the fuck is that oxygen?!”

“Here!” Vince said, rushing back into the room, a metal tank in one hand and a mask in the other. He set it on the floor next to the IV stand, twisting the dial with one hand while he held the mask over Newt’s face the best he could with the other.

“Come on, come on,” Sonya murmured again and again, trying to hold Newt in place while clearly waiting for something. After another minute the seizure started to relax and Newt fell back limp against the bed. Sonya reached forwards, resting her hand on his chest for a second before a bright grin that Thomas had never seen on her split across her face and she dropped back on her heels. “He’s got a strong pulse,” she declared and a collective sigh of relief went around the room.

Vince hooked the oxygen mask around the back of Newts’ head before stepping back, running a weary hand over his face. “What—” he faltered. “What just happened?”

Everyone looked to Sonya—as the only medically trained person in the room—for answers but she just smiled slightly.

“My reason for not giving up.”

.

After Sonya rigged up two new IV bags, checked Newt’s pulse and shone a light in his eyes for the fourth time Gally finally lost his patience with her stalling.

“Will someone explain what the fuck we just saw?” he demanded and Sonya hesitated, brushing Newt’s hair away from his eyes for a second. When she turned around to look back at the rest of the group she faltered.

“I don’t—” A tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t—I don’t know what happened,” she admitted softly.

“We saw him—” Minho broke off with a pointed wave of his arms.

“We saw him die,” Gally said, advancing on Sonya angrily. “Everyone _but you_ thought he was dead. _He was dead!_ But all this time you knew he wasn’t and you never told us.”

“Hey,” Harriet snapped, stepping in between them, glaring at Gally pointedly. “She did tell you. She told all of us she didn’t think he was dead. But none of you—none of us believed her. So rather than screaming at Sonya, the only person who’s likely to have any answers, why don’t you calm the fuck down and listen to what she has to say.”

Gally and Harriet stared at each other for a tense minute before Gally stepped back, holding his hands up in defeat with a slight nod of apology.

“Sonya,” Vince said, his voice gentle, “what’s been going on?”

Sonya looked up at him with angry, tear-filled eyes. “You all thought I was crazy is what’s been going on,” she said. “I know you all thought WCKD broke me and that I refused to give up on Newt because I was crazy. I know you’ve only been letting me treat him because you’re humouring me. _I know.”_ Everyone except Thomas at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed but Sonya didn’t care. She wasn’t done. “But I’m not crazy! I’m not a doctor but I know that comas and being unconscious can slow a heartbeat and breathing so much that without technology you can’t detect them. You thought he was dead, maybe I did too but… still, I’ve been giving him a mixture of saline and nutrients this entire time. I treated the knife wound, it wasn’t that major with everything else that was going on. But I don’t know…”

“Okay,” Vince said quietly, “okay. We know how the flare effects people. Humans—even infected ones—need a certain amount fluids and nutrients to survive before their bodies give out. If Newt was dehydrated or malnourished then his body would keep him unconscious while it tried to heal itself. If he was only getting a couple of IV’s a day then it wouldn’t have been enough for him to wake up.”

Sonya nodded slightly. “The cure being a shock to his system was probably the only reason he woke up and then had a seizure. But now, the enzyme in the cure is attacking every infected cell in his body and that’s going to take _even more_ out of him,” she said, “but the fact that his brain registered that something’s changed and that he had a seizure is _a good_ thing. It means the flare didn’t do any irreversible nerve damage. But it also means that when he does wake up, he’s going to be in a lot of pain.”

“So, what do we do?” Frypan asked, his voice quiet and full of worry.

“We wait,” Sonya replied simply. “We get him some more fluids, keep him on oxygen twenty-four-seven and I need to go and see what this bucket of rust’s medical supplies look like. He’s gonna need a lot of painkillers, antibiotics, a cannula… I want to move him there if we can and then as soon as he’s stronger and completely uninfected I want him on the island where it’s easier to check up on him.”

Vince nodded. “Whatever you need,” he said.

Sonya scrunched up her face as she wracked her brain for anything she’d missed but when she came up with nothing she nodded again. “I’ll be in the med bay, don’t leave him on his own. Come and get me if anything happens.” She didn’t wait for a reply, already moving towards the door but Minho reached out, catching her elbow before she could leave.

Sonya tensed at the touch but didn’t push him away as she looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, sincerity and pain shining in his eyes, “and thank you.”

 _I didn’t do it for you._ Sonya wanted to say, but instead, she inclined her head slightly, waiting for him to let go of her arm before she left the room.

She moved on autopilot through the passages and into the small med bay to start rummaging through the shelves.

There wasn’t much here, some basic meds had been moved onto the island and what was left was all they had.

Sonya’s eyes scanned over the supplies, several boxes of saline and bandages, some basic vials of morphine and antibiotics. A few vitals monitors and wires that didn’t work anymore, a feeding tube with no formula and some basic surgical equipment.

Sonya grabbed a spare oxygen tank, tossing it on top of the table with several IV bags and other supplies to take back to Newt’s room.

“Sonya?”

Sonya stopped what she was doing to look towards the door where a hesitant looking Aris was leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” she said softly, setting the bag of gauze she was holding on the table before looking back to him.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he blurted out and then hesitated. “I never thought you were crazy.”

Sonya managed to give him a soft smile, reaching out a hand towards him and when he took it, she slid an arm around his waist, leaning her head against his for a minute.

“I know _you_ didn’t,” she said and she meant it. They’d been side by side practically throughout WCKD’s experiments. They each knew the other wasn’t broken.

“Did you really know that he was alive though?” he asked and Sonya hesitated.

“No,” she said honestly, “I couldn’t find a pulse, his breathing was so shallow it undetectable. If he was anyone else I would have called it but… I couldn’t do it. You might not have thought I was crazy, but I probably would’ve.”

Aris made a disagreeing noise but didn’t argue with her, instead, he asked, “are you going to tell them why you really couldn’t give up?”

Sonya considered it for a moment before she answered. “No,” she said, “I’m not telling anyone else until I tell Newt.”

Aris nodded against her shoulder until a shuffling in the doorway caught their attention and they drew apart. Harriet was leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, fiddling with her fingers almost anxiously with a hurt look on her face.

“Hey, Aris, can you give us a sec?” she requested softly and Aris nodded, swiping an armful of supplies off of the table to take back to Newt’s room before he slid out of the room. Harriet didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at Sonya in that calm, assessing way that she used to back in the Glade like she was figuring everything about you out. “I’m sorry,” she finally said and Sonya’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” she asked.

“I’m sorry that it seemed like I doubted you or was questioning you. Because I wasn’t. No matter what other people’s opinions are, I don’t care. No matter what; I will stand by you, okay? I might not have believed something that I couldn’t see. But I believe and trust in you. I need you to know that you never need to question where I stand,” Harriet said and tears sprung to Sonya’s eyes at the conviction in her tone.

Sonya nodded, trying to wipe her tears away. “I’m sorry too. And I do trust you. I trust you to tell me when I am being crazy because I think sometimes I am going crazy now and I do crazy things for reasons I can’t explain and I—” she broke off as she choked back a sob and Harriet stepped forward.

“Oh, babe…” she said softly and Sonya let Harriet draw her into her arms. Harriet pressed a soft kiss to her hair, holding her tightly. “You’re not crazy. Trust me when I say that you’re not crazy. I promise you.”

“But if I act like I am—”

“Then I will tell you,” Harriet promised softly. “Are we good?”

Sonya nodded, burying her face further into Harriet’s shoulder. “We’re good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not going to believe this place, Newt,” he said softly. “I still can’t quite believe it. Gally finished our cabin. It’s nice. It reminds me of the Glade. Your hammock is there ready for you, Fry made sure you got the best blankets and Gally… You should probably wake up soon before Minho kills him again; he’s being nice to everyone and Minho isn’t quite sure how to deal with it. When you wake up maybe it’ll really start to feel like home.”
> 
> Thomas scanned Newt’s face, for any sign of him hearing him or waking up’ but there was nothing.
> 
> He sighed heavily, “You have to wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer, I was going to drag it out a little more but it just didn't work so I left it as it is.
> 
> And a massive thank you for all of the comments, kudos and bookmarks! It makes my day every time I see a notification in my inbox.

As Sonya predicted, Newt’s recovery wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

The first three days Newt was completely unconscious. Jorge fixed an old vitals machine up so it would at least give a pulse and oxygen levels reading.

The fourth day started out much the same, until the early afternoon when he seized again and then again two hours later, this time so violently that he had to be sedated.

They kept him on a high dosage of painkillers, and it seemed to ease the seizures. He even woke up briefly on the ninth day, he said something too incoherent for anyone to make out and passed out again.

But it was enough to be classed as progress. So, on the ninth day, they moved Newt onto a gurney, onto one of the lifeboats and they got him back to the island and the medi-hut that Thomas woke up in became Newt’s. And when Thomas, Minho, Gally and Frypan weren’t standing vigil by Newt’s bedside or doing the jobs they were assigned, they were in their new hut. Gally had worked with the other builders to put together for the five of them.

It was a modest hut, simple, but slowly they were starting to make it feel more like home. Although none of them could look past the hammock that still hung empty, waiting for Newt.

It was the afternoon of the fifteenth day and Thomas was heading up towards Newt’s cabin after he was done with his shift with the track-hoes—no, they were just gardeners now— He was heading up the hill, towards Newt’s hut but stopped short outside of it.

Minho, Fry, Gally, Harriet, Aris, Brenda and Jorge were all sitting around in the grass right outside of the hut, varying looks of agitation on their faces.

“What’s going—”

Thomas’ words were cut off as an agony filled scream tore through the air and Thomas’ insides clenched as he recognised the voice.

“It’s been happening on and off for the past twenty minutes,” Gally said quietly with a pained look of his own.

“Sonya cut back the sedation and morphine,” Harriet supplied, “if he doesn’t can’t stay awake soon and eat we’re gonna have to figure out a feeding tube.” She winced as inside Newt screamed again.

Thomas knew, logically, that she was right and the fact that Newt’s brain was registering pain was a good thing. But still, it wasn’t an easy thing to hear.

Thomas rushed past them all and into the hut, standing in the doorway, taking in the scene, Thomas swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. Newt was lying on the bed, his clothes sticking to his sweat-caked body as soft whimpers fell past his lips but otherwise, he was unmoving.

“He had another seizure about half an hour ago,” Sonya said, not looking up from where she was wiping a trail of blood off of Newt’s chin from where it had run out of the corner of his mouth. “I think it’s all just his body adjusting. He came around briefly but he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying or what was happening.”

Thomas nodded slightly, watching as Sonya stood up from the bed, putting the oxygen mask back over Newt’s face. She tossed the rag in a bowl of bloodied water, setting it on her hip as she looked over the room as if to double check everything.

“Keep an eye on his oxygen levels, the tank’s on a low setting because he’s been breathing better, but if they drop below eighty-five then turn it up and come and get me. His IV and catheter bags have both been changed so he should be good for a little while,” she said, sagging slightly as her eyes rested on Newt and Thomas thought that she looked even more exhausted than he did.

“Do you know how much long—”

 _“Thomas,”_ Sonya snapped, a little harsher than she’d intended judging by her small wince and apologetic look. In the past two weeks, every time Newt got a new symptom they would all go to her—one of the few people on the island with basic medical training—and pepper her with questions. “I’m not a Doctor,” she reminded him softly. “We just have to wait. But he _is_ getting better. He’s no longer showing any physical symptoms of the flare. His eyes are clear, his veins are normal, he’s registering pain but he’s still got a hell of a way to go. He’s malnourished, his lungs are getting stronger but they’re still struggling. None of us have ever seen anyone come back from The Flare like this before. We just have to wait and see what happens.”

Thomas nodded, but he couldn’t help the worry that was gnawing away at him inside.

“Hey.” She reached out and took his hand with her free one. “Worrying isn’t going to help. He’s going to be fine.” She squeezed his hand and Thomas wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself before she slid out of the hut.

Thomas stared after her for a moment, his brain stopping short. He could have sworn that he heard a hint of a British lilt in her voice over the words ‘stop your worrying’ but Thomas shook the thought away. He’d been thinking about Newt too much. He missed Newt’s voice so much he was starting to hear it everywhere.

Thomas let out a heavy breath, exhaustion pressing down on him like he was carrying a weighty load. He stepped forward, dropping down to sit on the edge of Newt’s bed, he let his fingers trace absent patterns over the back of Newt’s hand with a soft smile as the other hand came up to fiddle with the necklace that still hung around his neck.

“You’re not going to believe this place, Newt,” he said softly. “I still can’t quite believe it. Gally finished our cabin. It’s nice. It reminds me of the Glade. Your hammock is there ready for you, Fry made sure you got the best blankets and Gally… You should probably wake up soon before Minho kills him again; he’s being nice to everyone and Minho isn’t quite sure how to deal with it. When you wake up maybe it’ll really start to feel like home.”

Thomas scanned Newt’s face, for any sign of him hearing him or waking up’ but there was nothing.

He sighed heavily, “You have to wake up.”

.

Thomas spent the rest of the afternoon with Newt, just telling him about his day and the general goings on of the Island. As the evening drew in, Minho came back and all but dragged Thomas out of the hut to get dinner while Harriet and Sonya opted to stay behind with Newt in case anything happened.

So, Thomas reluctantly followed his former glade-mates and Brenda down to the makeshift mess hall, where they got bowls of Fry’s stew –it wasn’t the same as it was in the Glade, but it was still pretty good—and went to sit around the campfire to listen to one of Jorge’s crazy stories.

They got halfway through their bowls of supper when Aris – who’d gone to take food back for Sonya and Harriet – came running through the stand, stumbling as he came to a stop next to Thomas.

“It’s Newt,” he panted, gaining everyone’s undivided attention. “He’s awake and talking.”

A beat of shocked silence passed over the group and then everyone seemed to move at once. Dishes slipped through their fingers and for once nobody cared about the wasted food, they were already running before it hit the floor.

Minho, as always, got there first, shoving the curtain aside so hard that it teetered precariously on the rail. Thomas stumbled to a stop half a pace behind him, his eyes immediately seeking out Newt who was, as Aris said, awake and talking to Sonya in a hoarse, broken voice. He was half propped up against the pillows, looking exhausted and slightly gaunt but otherwise fine.

Nobody said anything for a full minute after everyone had crammed themselves into the small hut, all waiting with baited breath to see if it was all too good to be true. That maybe it wasn’t really Newt anymore. And Newt took his time, scanning his eyes over the group. After what seemed like an age, his lips quirked into a slow smile.

“So,” he rasped, “we didn’t die then?”

Something between a laugh and a sigh of relief rippled across the room as the tension broke.

It really was him.

Nowhere near healthy, but truly alive.

All signs of the Crank gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to update this story at least once a week. It isn't yet finished and of course, it all depends on how crazy my life gets and how often I'm able to write.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I—I’m sorry,” Minho said, his voice quiet and hoarse. Newt’s face twisted into a confused frown.
> 
> “Why?” he asked blankly, looking between them all. “What’ve you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, this is a shorter chapter but I promise they're going to start getting longer after this one.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Survivors(?) guilt. Minho angst.

They all stayed by Newt’s bedside for nearly another hour before he started to struggle. So, Sonya kicked them all out and Minho hated himself momentarily for being grateful that she did.

Everyone was strangely quiet as they stepped outside of the medi-hut, all just hesitating in the doorway, unsure of where to go or what to do. They all faltered as they all heard the sounds of Newt coughing and retching violently from back inside the hut.

Minho felt a sudden rush of anger flood through him. His heart pounded in his chest as his fingers curled into tight fists.

They’d come for him. After an entire year, they’d still come from him. Even though they’d had no word from him. He could have been dead. But they still risked their lives time and time again for any hint of him. But Minho had given up on Newt after just a few days. After everything, he’d just believed he was…

“Minho?”

Minho’s head whipped up at Frypan’s soft voice and he hesitated as he realised everyone was staring at him in a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I—” Minho’s words faltered, his breath catching in his throat.

They’d given up on him.

After everything.

They’d given up on Newt of all people.

A mixture of emotions surged up inside of Minho so quickly that rather than processing them, his brain just seemed to short circuit and just… stop. He looked between his friends blankly. Thomas, Gally, Fry, Brenda and Jorge… and he panicked. So, Minho did the one thing he knew he could do; he ran.

He ran down the bank, sprinting through the sand as he hit the beach and along the seafront. But he was out of practice, he hadn’t run distance in over a year, so he didn’t get far before his knee’s buckled and he hit the sand. His lungs burning as he panted heavily, his body shaking with broken sobs.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made Minho flinch violently but then he faltered as he realised it was just Frypan. Kneeling in the sand next to him, Frypan gave him a soft look of understanding.

“We gave up on him,” Minho said, his voice breaking as tears slid down his cheeks. “We left him on that boat. Alone. We—I—” He broke off, choking on a sob, letting Frypan curl an arm around his body, Minho let himself collapse into his side.

“I know man,” Frypan murmured, his forehead resting against the top of Minho’s head. _“I know.”_

“Come on,” Brenda said suddenly after Minho’s sobs had died down and they all looked up at her in confusion.

“What?” Thomas squinted at her like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“Come on,” she repeated firmly, gesturing for them to move. “Get your asses out of the sand and let’s go.”

Hesitantly, Minho, Frypan and Thomas pulled themselves up off of the floor, wiping their faces on the ends of their sleeves.

Brenda looked at them all expectantly before turning on the spot and marching back the way they’d just came.

Gally looked across at the others with a look of hesitant confusion. “Are we supposed to follow her?”

“Yes!” Brenda shouted back, not bothering to stop or wait for them.

The four former gladers exchanged lost looks before following after her.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked but she ignored him, giving no indication that she’d even heard him speak

They followed her along the beach and back up the bank to the medi-hut and before anyone could stop her, she shoved the curtain aside and walked right in.

“Hey, guys,” Sonya said, rising to her feet from where she, Harriet and Aris were sitting on the floor by Newt’s bed. “C’mon, we talked about this. He needs rest.”

“I know and they’ll just be a minute,” Brenda said before looking to Newt who was struggling to sit up. “If you’re feeling up to it, these idiots—” She gestured back to Minho, Frypan and Gally. “—need a minute of your time.”

Minho shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes lingering at around Newt’s shoulder as the blond boy studied the group critically for a second. Eventually, his eyes met Minho’s and Newt nodded.

“Alright,” he said.

To Minho’s left, Brenda made a satisfied noise, grabbing Thomas by the sleeve and dragging him backwards out of the hut.

“You’ve had your soppy reunion, now it’s their turn,” she said, ignoring the way he protested.

“Ten minutes,” Sonya said sternly, waiting for all four of them to nod before she followed after Harriet and Aris who slid out, under the curtain.

Newt pushed himself higher up the bed with a visible wince of pain before, raising an eyebrow at them all expectantly.

“So,” he said in his firm second-in-command voice, “is one of you gonna explain what the bloody hell is going on?”

Minho shifted his weight between his feet for a moment before he swallowed thickly.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. Newt’s face twisted into a confused frown.

“Why?” he asked blankly, looking between them all. “What’ve you done?”

At any other time Minho would have been offended at the insinuation but right now, it was all he could do to burst into tears again.

“Minho?” Newt said, a sudden not of alarm in his voice.

“We thought you were dead,” he said, watching as Newt’s face softened into a look of understanding. “I gave up on you and I’m sorry.”

“Come here,” Newt said and Minho faltered. “Come here you shank. I’m not gonna hit you.”

Gally shoved his shoulder roughly and Minho stumbled forwards so he was standing next to Newt’s bed. Newt grabbed his arm, tugging it weakly until Minho sat down facing him.

“Get over it,” Newt said firmly.

“Wha—” Minho frowned at him.

“Get over it,” Newt repeated. “You thought I died. Hell, I stabbed myself in the chest after getting a deadly virus then was lying around motionless for two weeks. I would have thought I was dead. I probably was at one point. Get over it, all of you. I’m alive.”

Minho let out a shuddering breath, his head dropping down as that sharp pain twisted in his chest again at the thought of Newt being dead.

“Fucking—c’mere.” Newt grabbed Minho roughly, pulling him into his arms. Minho let himself sink against his best friend’s chest, trying to be careful of Newt’s wounds but Newt didn’t seem to care as Gally and Frypan drew closer to them.

Sonya wouldn’t give them much longer, but for now, this was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt dropped his head back against the pillows as a wave of anger rushed through him and it made him falter.
> 
> He didn’t want to get angry. Not really.
> 
> He was too tired to be angry. His body still hurt from the last time he got angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some gladers just being teenagers and Sonya not falling for any of their excuses...  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Teenagers dealing with trauma in the way that teenagers do... laughing at it.

As predicted, Newt waking up wasn’t the end of his recovery. It took him another two days and several doses of Sonya’s herbal anti-nausea medication for Newt to be able to drink small sips of water without bringing them, and the lining of his stomach back up, and it was another day after that before he was able to keep in small amounts of dried food.

And because he wasn’t able to eat properly, and rebuild his energy, Sonya wouldn’t let him leave his bed.

“C’mon!” he pleaded, “just outside the door and then I’ll go straight back to bed. Everyone keeps telling me about how amazing this shucking island is and I don’t know because I’m not allowed to see it for myself.”

Sonya rolled her eyes at him as she gathered up her stuff. “The answer is still no,” she said, “if you go out there and fall or pass out or whatever you’re gonna feel worse.”

Newt dropped his head back against the pillows as a wave of anger rushed through him and it made him falter.

He didn’t want to get angry. Not really.

He was too tired to be angry. His body still hurt from the last time he got angry.

Sonya’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he suddenly stopped pressing the matter but she didn’t comment, just gave him a soft look before she slid from the room.

Newt lay there for a minute, staring up at the ceiling for a minute, letting himself relax as he waited for Sonya to get far enough away before he struggled to push himself upright.

With a grunt of pain, he moved his legs, one after the other to hang over the side of the bed, twisting his body around to the side. He pushed himself up, hesitating as his legs shook and his knees buckled but before he hit the floor someone caught his arms and took his weight.

“Whoa, shuckface! What do you think you’re doing?”

Newt faltered at the sound of Minho’s voice and winced. “Shit…”

“Uh huh,” Minho said, helping lower Newt back to sit on the edge of his bed, “has Sonya said you’re well enough to be up?”

Newt considered lying, but glancing up he realised that Minho wasn’t alone, Gally and Frypan stood either side of him, each fixing Newt with disbelieving looks and Newt sighed.

“Just let me go outside,” he said, “five minutes?”

“Newt, you should probably wait a couple of days,” Frypan said hesitantly, “just until you’re a bit better.”

Newt bit back a frustrated sigh. “I’ve been stuck in this cabin for days. Apparently, there’s a new world outside but I don’t get to see it because I’m stuck here and can’t leave!”

Minho, Fry and Gally all exchanged wary looks before Minho gave a heavy sigh and stepped forwards.

“Alright,” he said, gesturing for Newt to give him his arm, “but if Sonya, Harriet or Thomas catches us, I’m saying that you made us. Also, if you feel like crap later, I will not sit around and listen to you whine.”

Newt smiled slightly, letting Gally and Minho take his arms, helping pull him up to his feet. “Yeah you will,” he said with a slight groan of pain as he caught his balance.

“Yeah, I probably will,” Minho conceded with a roll of his eyes. “But I won’t like it.”

Newt swallowed down the wave of nausea that washed through him as his body adjusted to being upright. His bad leg shook violently and pain shot up through his body.

“Are you gonna admit defeat yet?” Gally asked but Newt shook his head.

“No,” he said, clenching his jaw in determination. “I’m good.”

Gally gave a disbelieving grunt but helped Minho take Newt’s weight as they helped him across the room. Frypan held back the curtain out of the way, giving the trio a look as if he thought they were all crazy.

They stepped outside and Newt winced, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light. The warm rays of sun hit his face and he slowly looked up, a soft gasp of surprise falling past his lips.

Newt’s toes curled into the soft grass underfoot as he looked out, watching the soft blue waves roll in from the horizon, gently lapping at the pale sand on the beach. It was like Thomas had described; the cliffs, the village, the boat and the sea. But still, somehow it was different. It was calmer than Newt had expected. With more freedom than Newt had ever known.

The air was clear, no pollution to cover the scent of the salty waves or the fresh plants. Nothing mechanical or fake in sight.

Newt leant heavily into Minho’s side as he took it all in.

This was it.

This was what he never thought he’d see.

Life.

Freedom.

Safety.

Just people living, and building a society because they wanted to; not because someone was making them. Nothing here was false or designed to manipulate them.

Minho’s hand on Newt’s shoulder tightened slightly. “I know,” he said. “I’d say you get used to it but…”

“We haven’t yet,” Frypan said, stepping up to stand on Gally’s other side and for a moment the four of them just stood there, watching the new little village bustle about and Newt remembered the old days. Before Thomas. Where there was the four of them, and Alby, and Winston, Zart and Clint and… and all of the others would be together, just taking a quiet moment after their Keepers meetings where they would stand by the hut and just watch the Glade around them. Then Gally and Minho would start bickering or something would happen and the moment of peace would be broken.

But here… Newt couldn’t imagine this place being anything but peaceful.

“Newt?!”

And just like that the moment was gone as Thomas jogged up the hill towards them and Newt reconsidered his previous thoughts on peace. Because, let’s be honest, Thomas had never been particularly good at peaceful.

“Newt? What are you doing? Sonya literally just told me that you weren’t allowed up,” he said coming to a stop in front of Newt, his hands hovering out like he was ready to catch Newt if his knees buckled.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Sonya doesn’t know everything,” he said, “fresh air ‘nd all. It’s supposed to be good for one’s recovery.”

“But—”

 _“Thomas.”_  Newt fixed him with a hard look that just dared him to try and argue. “Minho told me about how you nearly died, was unconscious for weeks and then got up and took a stroll.” Thomas opened his mouth to argue but Newt still wasn’t done. “I’ve been lying in that bed _awake_ for five days. You all have shit to do and I’m going crazy.” A tense, uncertain silence spread across the group and Newt bit back a laugh. “What? Too soon? You shanks are too sensitive.”

Minho was the first to laugh. “Sensitive?” he said. “I was tortured for months let’s not forgot.”

Frypan groaned. “Man, I feel like we’re never gonna be allowed to forget it, now.”

“Yeah,” Gally said, “and that was after you threw a spear through my chest.”

Newt’s lips twisted into an amused smirk at the almost helpless look on Thomas’ face. Like he didn’t know if it was okay to laugh at this, after all, he’d never seen them like this before. Newt didn’t think _he’d_ ever seen them quite like this before.

He reached out, clasping Thomas on the shoulder, his thumb brushing under the neck of his shirt.

“C’mon,” Newt said, “you’ve still got a lot to learn, Greenie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week... and remember, reviews make me want to write more!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Thomas has a crazy stupid idea,” Brenda said in way of greeting everyone at breakfast the next morning. Thomas’ head whipped up in a mixture of surprise and offence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the longest chapter I posted so far. So, enjoy.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Nightmares. Talks about torture. Talks experimentation. Basically, they talk about WCKD and consenting to medical experimentation.

Once Newt was seizure free for a week and food and fluids were actually going through his system, not just coming straight back up, Sonya declared him well enough to leave. She removed the cannula from his arm and shooed him and his glade-mates from the medi-hut, declaring that she didn’t ever want them to be her patients again.

No sooner than Newt found himself warily following a strangely excited Gally across the grass towards a cluster of three wooden huts. They stood out against the sandy shoreline in a way that reminded Newt strongly of the huts from the Glade.

“Ours is the biggest,” Gally said, “Jorge got his own one but is still nearby because he and Brenda refused to be too far apart. The other hut is for Sonya, Harriet, Aris and Brenda.”

“But,” Brenda said, appearing on Newt’s right from seemingly nowhere, “I reserve the right to bunk with you lot when Harriet and Sonya get _close.”_ She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Gally gave her a long, blank look before turning away and continuing towards the hut. Newt ducked his head to hide his amusement.

“You and Aris are welcome to the floor of our hut any day,” Frypan said.

Brenda put her hand to her chest, gasping in mock offence. “What? You wouldn’t offer your bed to a guest? To a lady?”

Newt snorted before he could stop himself. “A lady?” he asked. “You?”

Brenda scowled. “If Thomas wouldn’t give me that wounded puppy look and try and kill me I would punch you right now,” she said darkly.

Newt smirked at her, taking a pointed step to the side, putting Thomas between the two of them.

“Can we just—” Gally gestured to the huts that they’d come to a stop outside of with a frustrated huff. Clearly upset that people weren’t admiring his work enough.

Newt inclined his head towards the largest hut. “Lead the way.”

Gally gave a satisfied nod before pushing open the door and ducking inside. Newt stepped in behind him and a soft smile settled on his lips as he took in the room.

The cabin was a decent size, enough space that the hammocks could hang from the posts near the six walls and there was still enough floor space in the middle to move around. On the walls behind the hammocks behind the door were simple wooden shelves, most of which were still empty. One had a water bottle, Minho’s running harness and another had Fry’s knife but Newt’s attention was drawn the shelf behind the door.

On top of it sat a lone wooden figurine and a lump formed in Newt’s throat as he recognised it as Chuck’s. He tore his eyes away from the shelf, scanning around the room. He nodded, trying to push away the memories of the cabin he once shared with Alby and Minho. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

.

On an island full of survivors of lab experiments, torture and an outbreak of a deadly contagion, nightmares and panic attacks were to be expected.

Newt shot upright in his hammock, his fingers curling around the handle of his gun before he was even awake. It took his brain a second to register that he was in the hut, on the island, far away from The Scorch. But someone was still screaming.

“What’s going on?”

“Who’s screaming?”

“Minho? _Minho?!”_

In the darkness, Newt could just about make out Thomas scrambling from his hammock, rushing across the hut to Minho’s. Frypan flicked on the lantern next to him. It came to life, casting a soft glow across the cabin.

“Minho, wake up,” Thomas said, his hands hovering over Minho like he wanted to shake him but also didn’t want to startle him. Minho’s head whipped to the side, muttering something incoherent. “It’s a dream. It’s over.”

Minho shot upright, his hammock rocking violently at the same time someone knocked on the door.

Newt set his gun back on the shelf and made a move to stand up but Gally shook his head, already on his feet.

“I got it,” he muttered, moving to pull open the door and Newt caught sight of Brenda’s concerned expression before he turned back to Minho and Thomas.

Minho was hunched forwards, his head resting on his knuckles as he took deep, shuddering breaths. Thomas reached out, resting his hand on Minho’s shoulder comfortingly, he murmured something too low for anybody else to hear and Minho gave a strangled noise. He pressed his fist against his mouth and nodded slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracked.

Newt glanced across the hut to Fry who looked back at him with an equally disturbed expression.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Thomas said with a heavy sigh and Newt looked back to them as Thomas pulled Minho into a tight hug. “We get it. We all get it.”

Newt dropped back into his hammock heavily, rubbing his hands over his face.

Most of their physical wounds had healed, leaving nothing but scar tissue behind. But their mental ones… well, they were still the equivalent to raw gaping wounds.

.

It was several hours later and nobody had felt like going back to sleep. Brenda had come in, stealing Thomas’ hammock, declaring that she was tired of hearing Harriet talking in her sleep. So Thomas shoved Minho over slightly, and the two of them were lying half on top of each other, just staring up at the ceiling. Frypan turned the lamp back off

“What do you think’s happening out there?” Minho asked breaking the quiet in the room. Newt turned his head to look in his general direction.

“Where?” Frypan asked.

“Out there. The rest of the world,” Minho clarified.

“The same fucked up shit as before,” Brenda put eloquently, “just without WCKD.”

“Do you ever think about going back?” Thomas asked and Newt sighed at the tone in his voice.

“It sounds like you have,” he said.

Thomas made a noncommittal noise that Newt knew meant yes.

“I just—I keep thinking about something she said, about… about how I can save them all. I have the only known cure and aren’t I obligated to do something?” Thomas asked.

Brenda scoffed and even in the darkness, Newt could see as she sat up. “No,” she said, “whoever said that can go fuck themselves. You’re not obligated to do anything. Especially about something related to your body.”

“But—”

“No, fuck them,” she spat. “If _you_ want to go back and cure the world, then you do it. But do it because you want to, not because some scientist says you should.”

“Do you want to go back?” Newt asked after a moment.

“No,” Thomas said a beat too slowly. “I just… we can’t be the only ones left. There has to be other uninfected people out there. Immunes or just… survivors.”

“We’re not,” Gally said quietly. “Lawrence used to talk about other factions of survivors in other parts of the world.”

“Marcus did too but…” Brenda trailed off.

“He also tried to sell us to WCKD,” Thomas said.

“Yeah,” she said, laying back down, “so who knows how reliable he was.”

“Don’t—” Thomas hesitated and Newt could already predict the self-sacrificing thing that he was going to say next. “Don’t they deserve the same chance of all of this that we do?”

Newt sighed heavily, staring up at the ceiling as his hammock rocked slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess they do.”

“What would we do though?” Frypan asked and Newt’s lips quirked at the instant ‘we.’ “If we went back? It’s not like we know anyone who could make the cure again.”

“There’ll be someone though that can,” Thomas said.

“You wanna go back?” Gally asked, the tone of his voice rising as if he thought they were all crazy for even thinking about it.

“Don’t you?” Brenda asked softly.

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Gally let out a deep breath. “Maybe.”

“Are we seriously considering going back?” Minho asked, a soft note of fear in his voice.

“Maybe,” Thomas said, “but only if all of us want to. Nobody’s getting left behind… Not again.”

.

“So, Thomas has a crazy stupid idea,” Brenda said in way of greeting everyone at breakfast the next morning. Thomas’ head whipped up in a mixture of surprise and offence.

Harriet looked up from her bowl of porridge, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Another one?”

Thomas shook his head but didn’t rise to the bait of answering back.

“The shank wants to go back,” Gally said bluntly. Sonya, Harriet and Aris all faltered, looking up at Thomas in a mixture of surprise and trepidation.

“You… want to go back?” Sonya asked softly, the same wariness in her voice that Minho had had the night before.

“Yes—no. No,” Thomas said, wincing as he tripped over his words. “Not to the city or to WCKD, but just—I was thinking about the people we left behind. The other survivors. Because there has to be more survivors… and the cure. I have the cure.”

“Are you out of your fucking—”

“I’ve thought about it too,” Aris admitted softly before Harriet could finish her sentence and everyone looked over at him in surprise. Aris gave half a shrug. “Can you really imagine spending the rest of your lives just on this island? Never leaving? It’s not like we have enough supplies for everyone forever.”

“We’re not trapped here,” Sonya said, a faraway look in her eyes, “but it’d be nice to go and see what’s out there while someone isn’t trying to kill us, and if we’re able to help people on the way then…” She shrugged slightly, looking up at Harriet with a small smile as the latter reached out and took her hand.

Minho looked down at his bowl, poking his porridge with his spoon absently. “I’m not racing to go back,” he said, looking up at Thomas. An open look of vulnerability and fear on his face that he never would have shown back in The Maze or in The Scorch. “But,” he went on, “if you asked me, I would go.”

“Minho, I wouldn’t—”

Minho’s lips quirked into a half—smile and Thomas could practically see the walls going back up behind his eyes.

“I know you wouldn’t you ugly shank,” Minho said, “but I’d go back anyway.”

“It’s like you said,” Frypan put in, “nobody gets left behind.”

Newt tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his eyes scanning over the group as he considered it. “Either we all go or nobody does,” he said and Thomas nodded in agreement.

“We should talk to Vince,” Harriet said, “after all, we’ll need that rust bucket that he calls a boat.”

.

“You want to what?” Vince stared at Thomas blankly, like he wasn’t sure if he’d miss heard him or not.

“We want to borrow your derelict boat, sail away, find some more supplies and see if we can find someone who can remake Thomas’ cure in the process,” Minho summarised helpfully.

Vince looked between each teenager in turn before looking back to Jorge who was leaning back against the table, watching Brenda with an almost excited expression on his face. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get any backup from Jorge, Vince sighed, running a hand across his face tiredly before he looked back up at Thomas with a patient expression.

“Explain your plan to me,” he said, “from the start.”

Thomas looked around his friends and gave a helpless shrug. “We don’t really have one yet,” he said and Vince levelled him with a completely unsurprised yet equally unimpressed look, “we just wanted to know if your boat—”

“The bucket of rust boat,” Minho interrupted.

“She’s not a—”

 _“If your boat,”_ Thomas went on as if neither Minho or Vince had spoken, “could handle it, or if you’d even let us take it?”

Vince seemed to mull this over, he looked out, over their heads. Thomas followed his gaze, through the door to rest on said boat, which was sitting contently on the waves. But even looking at it a distance, Thomas could see what Minho meant. It _was_ a rust bucket. It was a miracle that it had gotten them all this far.

“We have no urgent need for supplies,” Vince said after a long moment and Thomas looked back to him. “But we will need them. We have an outdated map that doesn’t mark out infected zones and if you were to get into trouble, there’s no guarantee that you would be able to contact us and even if you could, I couldn’t promise that we’d be able to risk the berg for another rescue mission.”

Thomas nodded, he’d expected that. “We understand,” he said.

Vince sighed, taking a second to look over the group before he finally nodded. “Alright,” he said, “you can take the ship on three conditions.”

“What?”

“One, you bring her back _in one piece.”_ He fixed Thomas with a hard, pointed stare. “Two, at least three of you actually learn to drive her…”

“And three?” Newt asked with a raised eyebrow.

“And three,” Vince repeated, “to ensure condition one happens; Thomas doesn’t drive.”

Thomas gave an offended scoff, as Newt smiled and nodded in agreement to Vince’s terms.

Vince nodded. “Alright then,” he said, “you can take the boat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come and talk to me about this because the hype for this story (especially on discord) is my favourite thing ever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I meant what I said, kid,” Vince told Thomas firmly, “you bring her back in one piece.” He gestured out to the ship. “But more importantly you bring yourselves back in one piece.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every six days for an update is pretty good for me...

“C’mon, you’ve got it,” Brenda encouraged, helping the kid, Jay, to lift a crate into the lifeboat. It’d been a month since Thomas had initially suggested the idea and today was the day they were loading everything up to set sail.

“Why can’t I come with you?” Jay asked for the tenth time that morning.

Brenda rolled her eyes fondly. “I’ve told you,” she said, “you’re needed here. What are the others gonna do without you?”

Jay gave an incoherent grunt and scowled as he lifted another box into the boat. He was a survivor. He was one of the twenty eight kids who were on the bus that Brenda, Frypan and Gally had gotten out of the city and since then had started to follow Brenda around with wide adoring, but slightly terrified eyes.

“They could manage,” Jay grumbled petulantly and Brenda’s lips twitched slightly at how childish the pout on his face was. It was nice to see them all learning how to be kids again.

“Yeah, they could,” Brenda agreed, “but you don’t really know us and we’re not going to be coming back anytime soon. You don’t want to be away from them all for that long, do you?”

Jay considered it for a minute, his eyes flicking over to a few of the others before shaking his head, his dark brown, cloud-like hair bouncing with the movement.

“But you’ll come back, right?” he asked, looking back to Brenda with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Brenda nodded. “Yeah,” she promised, “we’re coming back and we’re gonna bring back more supplies and maybe more people with us.”

Jay nodded slightly, seeming to accept her answer with a soft, “okay.”

“We all good here?”

Gally weaved between the two of them, setting the stack of woven chests that contained everyone’s personal items into the boat.

“Yeah,” Brenda said, “that’s the last of the food. Fry reckons we’ve got enough for at least three weeks.”

Gally nodded, crouching down to help Jay lift a larger box up and over into the boat. “That’s the last of everyone’s personal stuff,” he said, “Jorge and I finished setting up all the hammocks in the dining room. Everyone can fight over them later.”

“Why’ve you got hammocks in the dining room when there’s like a hundred cabins on that boat?” Jay asked nosily.

“You’ve shared a cabin or a room with your glade-mates for as long as you can remember, right?” Gally asked seriously and Jay hesitated before nodding slightly. “Could you imagine suddenly being in a new space and being in a room, at night, on your own?”

A horrified look washed over Jay’s face as he considered it and Gally reached out, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

“Exactly,” he said, “that’s why we’re not all having separate cabins away from each other.”

“Oh,” Jay said softly and Gally gave him a slightly comforting smile before dropping his hand off of his shoulder.

“Now, c’mon,” Gally said, “let’s get the last of this on the boat.”

.

By noon everything was packed up and on board ready to go. Frypan cooked lunch on the island for what would be the last time in a while and after everything was cleared away, everybody gathered together on the beach to say their goodbyes.

“I meant what I said, kid,” Vince told Thomas firmly, “you bring her back in one piece.” He gestured out to the ship. “But more importantly you bring yourselves back in one piece.”

Thomas nodded sharply. “We will,” he said, “and we’ll be back within a year. If you haven’t heard from us in that time then…”

Vince nodded before reaching out and pulling Thomas into a hug. As they pulled away Vince nodded to something over Thomas’ shoulder.

“You spend so much time looking out for everyone else,” he said, “but it wouldn’t hurt if you let other people look out for you on occasion.”

Thomas hesitated before following Vince’s gaze over to Newt who was standing in front of the memorial, his head bowed and his hands shoved into his pockets.

The clouds parted, letting the sun shine down and the light danced across the ocean in such a way that as it caught Thomas’ eyes it made Newt and the memorial a dark silhouette on a bright backdrop.

Thomas swallowed thickly, tearing his eyes away from the picture as he looked back to Vince and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat as his voice cracked. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll be uh—right back.”

Thomas ignored Vince’s knowing look, already sliding past him to join Newt, his eyes drifting automatically over the names on the memorial.

_Clint_

_Jeff_

_Alby_

_Ben_

_Winston_

_Chuck_

_Teresa_

“You know, Minho was about to carve your name on here when I told him I was going to give you the cure,” Thomas said and Newt hummed, his tone somewhere between thoughtful and critical.

“Yeah, he’s not gonna get over that anytime soon,” he said.

Thomas glanced back over his shoulder, his lips twitching sadly as he saw Minho talking seriously to one of the kids from the WCKD compound before he pulled her into a tight hug.

“We’ve all got issues that we aren’t gonna get over anytime soon,” Thomas said, looking across at Newt. “The question is are we getting on a rusty old boat to travel the world to fix our issues or to run from them more?”

Newt laughed slightly, looking back at Thomas, his lips rising into a crooked grin. “Why can’t we do both, Tommy?”

.

“Is this crazy?” Minho asked his voice soft, looking back at the island as they sped towards the ship, the lifeboat practically bouncing on the waves.

“What?” Newt asked, glancing across at him.

“Leaving this behind? Going back out there?”

“Yup,” Brenda said without hesitation and Thomas’ lips twitched as he exchanged an amused look with Newt.

“We finally get a nice island where we’re not fighting for our lives and we give it all up to go sail around the world,” Gally snorted, “yeah, it’s jacked.”

“I don’t know,” Jorge said almost thoughtfully as he steered the lifeboat up to the side of the ship, “I don’t think anybody really expected you all to sit around and do nothing.” His gaze seemed to linger on Thomas for a second too long and Thomas briefly considered taking offence as Jorge went on, “some are less likely too than others.”

Once on the ship, they all headed up to the bridge and all faltered, each waiting for someone else to take charge.

“Don’t look at me,” Jorge said, holding his hands up defensively, “just because I’m older doesn’t mean to say I wanna be responsible for all your crazy ass decisions.”

“Thomas?” Brenda asked looking across at him. “This was your idea and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve all followed you into a stupid plan.”

Thomas took a step back as he shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said, “we all agreed to this equally. It’s someone else’s turn now.”

“Harriet?” Aris suggested but Harriet too shook her head.

“Yeah, no. I’ve seen how you all don’t follow orders. I’m not dealing with that,” she said, “I’m with Thomas, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I’ll do it,” Gally said when nobody else volunteered and both Newt and Minho spluttered in protest before Thomas could say anything.

“No way,” Minho said, “the last time you were in charge you tried to sacrifice Thomas. It should be me!”

“Why would you be captain?” Newt asked, looking at him as if he grew a second head and Thomas sighed, taking a step back to sit on the edge of the table.

This was going to take a while.

“Because I’m the only one that when faced with leadership responsibilities it didn’t all go to shit,” Minho said.

“As if,” Gally scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up. “You encouraged Thomas right from the start. That is not great leadership potential.”

Minho gave him a questioning look. “And you trying to ritually sacrifice him is?”

“Yes, and then you threw a spear through my chest and I came back and saved all your shank asses,” Gally said, his voice rising but there was no real heat behind his words.

“After I was tortured and used as a lab rat _for an entire year,”_ Minho stressed.

“Here we go again…” Frypan muttered, throwing his hands up in the air.

Gally opened his mouth to retort but Newt beat him to it, “Okay, if anyone should be captain it should be me,” he said and both Gally and Minho rounded on him with exaggerated looks of hurt.

“C’mon Newt,” Minho whined, “you’re supposed to be on my side!”

At the same time, Gally said, “What makes you better than us?”

“Mmm, maybe because I was supposed to be in charge this entire time,” Newt said as if it were obvious. “Oh, that’s right, and because all you ugly shanks thought I was dead and left me to rot for two weeks.”

Silence fell across the room at his words and Minho physically recoiled until Newt’s lips twitched slightly.

“So,” he said lightly, “anybody in disagreement.”

Gally held his hands up in surrender and shook his head.

Minho sighed. “You’re an asshole,” he said, but he didn’t disagree as Newt clamped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

“Oh, my God…” Sonya said, watching them with wide eyes. “You’re all a bunch of screwballs.”

Newt smiled pleasantly as if she’d never spoken. “Excellent,” he said, “now, let’s get out of here.”

Brenda smirked, turning to the control panel with a roll of her eyes as she hit the button to pull up the anchor. “Aye aye, Captain.”

As the engines came to life with a quiet mechanical whir, Thomas rose up from his seat against the table, turning around to look back at the Island as they started to move away from it.

“We’re doing the right thing,” he said as Newt stepped up next to him, “aren’t we?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Newt glance up at him in surprise before following his gaze across to the island as the sandy beach and green of the trees started to blend together.

“Yeah,” Newt said, “we are.”

And Thomas didn’t fully understand why, but when the words came from Newt, they carried so much more weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...
> 
> Also, Gally with kids is my favourite thing and you never know... there might be more of that to come!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you.”
> 
> Sonya’s arms curled around Harriet’s waist and she shifted so that her temple was leaning against Harriet’s collarbone.
> 
> “I know,” Sonya said with a quiet certainty that made Harriet smile.
> 
> “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In way of apologising for the lateness of this chapter... have some Sonyarriet content!!  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** A shower scene... It's nothing explicit really. Talks about WCKD's torture. Hint of a panic attack.

“Urgh, we should get curtains in here,” Brenda groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow. Harriet silently agreed as she continued to trace absent patterns down a sleepy Sonya’s arms while their hammock rocked softly.

It was early the next morning and the sun was just starting to rise. As it had cracked across the horizon, it shone through the glass windows into what was once the dining room—and was now their dormitory, not letting any of them get back to sleep after Thomas’ nightmare woke them.

“Where the fuck are we getting curtains from?” Gally asked from somewhere to Harriet’s left, his voice thick with sleep.

“Make some?” Sonya suggested, not lifting her head from where it was resting against Harriet’s chest.

“We can’t,” Frypan said, “we didn’t bring any spare material with us.”

“That was a shit idea,” Minho grumbled and Harriet resisted the urge to tell him that he was the one who insisted that they wouldn’t need ‘inane amounts of stuff.’

“Urgh, I feel sick,” Newt said after a minute, speaking for the first time and everyone looked over in his general direction in concern.

“Like sea sick or post-crank sick or just nauseated?” Sonya asked, slowly untangling herself from Harriet’s arms to sit up slightly to look over at him and their hammock rocked precariously at her sudden movement.

Newt was silent for a second and Harriet could picture his judging frown. “How would I know what seasickness feels like?” he said, “I think it’s just the usual post—” He broke off suddenly.

“Newt?” Thomas said, concern leaking into his voice.

Harriet turned her head just in time to see Newt roll out of his hammock with a groan and half ran, half hobbled towards the nearest bathroom.

“Fuck,” Sonya breathed, twisting out of bed and Harriet had to drop into the middle of the hammock quickly before it tipped.

“I’ll go,” Thomas said, already half way after Newt.

“I’ll get some anti-sickness stuff,” Sonya said, shoving her feet in her boots.

“Anything else you need?” Harriet asked, sitting upright, letting the blankets fall into her lap.

Sonya hesitated as she considered it. “I don’t think so,” she said, watching as Thomas came back in, snatched up a bottle of water and left again. She squeezed Harriet’s hand briefly before heading out towards the med-bay, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail as she went.

Harriet sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looked across to Aris who was still lying down with a sleepy expression on his face that made him look younger, more like his actual age.

“Day one at sea, Flee,” she said softly and Aris gave her a soft, sleepy smile. Harriet reached out towards him and he took her hand. “You okay?” Aris nodded again and Harriet raised a sceptical eyebrow at him.

“Just… adjusting,” he whispered and she gave him an understanding smile.

“Bad dreams?” she asked and Aris nodded again, fear shining in his eyes. Harriet squeezed his hand comfortingly, her thumb tracing circles on his. “You know,” she said, “you can always wake Sonya and I up. Or just crash with us, we don’t mind. In fact, we’d rather that than you hurting on your own.”

The corner of Aris’ lips twitched. “I know,” he breathed.

Harriet squeezed his hand again before letting it go and pushing herself out of bed. She grabbed a bundle of clean clothes and a towel and without bothering with her shoes she headed towards the nearest cabin with a working shower. The water purifier was one of the few things that worked on this ship without an issue.

She closed the cabin door but didn’t bother to lock either it or the bathroom door before she stripped down and stepped into the shower, giving a soft sigh of satisfaction as she mentally thanked whoever rigged up the solar panels to give them hot water.

Harriet was halfway through washing her hair when the bathroom door opened with a soft squeal of rusted hinges and she paused momentarily at the sound of someone moving around outside. The shower door opened and Sonya slid inside, drawing it closed behind her with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Harriet said, tipping her head back to rinse the soap from her hair as she watched Sonya carefully. She hadn’t expected her to join her. The offer was always there, back in the Glade they had communal showers that they’d often share. But ever since WCKD had taken her, Sonya had been hesitant with showing her body; showing her scars.

“Hey,” Sonya said back, her arms hugging her waist loosely. “Can I join you?”

Harriet smiled coyly. “Aren’t you already?” she asked, reaching out towards Sonya, her arms sliding around her waist, Harriet drew her under the warm spray.

They both laughed as the stream of water hit Sonya in the face before Harriet ducked her head forward, blocking her from the spray as she brushed her lips over Sonya’s. Their mouths moved against each other’s softly in perfect tandem; hands and skin brushed and caressed as water trailed over them.

Sonya pulled back almost sharply but before Harriet could even look at her in concern Sonya leant her forehead to rest against hers and Harriet realised that her hand had gotten a little too close to the scar on the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry,” Harriet whispered, sliding her hand away from Sonya’s neck to rest on her hip.

Sonya shook her head slightly. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” she murmured and then visibly hesitated.

“What is it?” Harriet asked gently, bringing her other hand up to cup Sonya’s jaw, her thumb ghosting over the top of her cheekbone, brushing away a drop of water that rested there.

“Will you wash my hair?” Sonya asked tentatively and Harriet hesitated.

Ever since that day when Harriet had lead Sonya out of the dark train carriage, brushing Sonya’s tangled braid away from her face in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture but instead had triggered Sonya’s first post-WCKD panic attack. Once she’d calmed down, Sonya had explained in a shaking voice about the draining equipment, the fear and the scars and that made her love for Harriet playing with her hair terrifying.

“Are you sure?” Harriet asked and Sonya nodded.

“I miss it,” she whispered, her breath brushing against Harriet’s lips.

“Miss what?”

“The feeling of your hands on me…” Sonya murmured, looking up at Harriet through hooded eyes and Harriet swallowed thickly.

“Son…” Harriet breathed, trying to be concerned but Sonya’s hand was slowly trailing up her abdomen with a playful smirk on her face but Harriet could still see the trepidation hiding underneath.

Sonya rolled her eyes at Harriet’s hesitation. “I’m okay,” she promised, “and if I’m not; I’ll tell you.”

Harriet smiled, pressing another soft kiss against Sonya’s lips. “Okay,” she said with a soft smile. She had missed this too.

With one last kiss against Sonya’s lips she dragged her hands back, pulling the band out of Sonya’s hair, guiding her around so they could swap places and Sonya was under the spray facing away from her.

Harriet watched her closely as she started to run her fingers through Sonya’s hair. She studied every sharp inhale, every muscle twitching as she slowly, with deliberate movements, massaged the soap through her hair.

“Tip your head back for me?” Harriet murmured and Sonya did, tilting her head to the side so she didn’t get a face full of water.

Harriet reached up, combing her fingers through Sonya’s blonde curls, nails brushing over her scalp. Harriet’s finger snagged on a tangle and Sonya tensed with a sharp gasp.

“Son?” Harriet said softly and when Sonya gave no indication of hearing her Harriet slid the hand not in Sonya’s hair up to rest on her pale shoulder; stroking her thumb in soft circles against her skin. “Breathe, babe.”

Sonya took a gasping breath in, her shoulders shuddering as she forced herself to breathe. Harriet continued to massage patterns against her skin until her breathing slowly evened out.

“Better?” Harriet queried, watching carefully as Sonya’s shoulders sagged and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, a thickness in her voice that sounded like she was crying. “I’m sorry.”

Harriet leant forwards, pressing her mouth against Sonya’s shoulder where her hand had been a second before. Harriet gave a satisfied smile as she felt the last of the tension drain away against her lips as Sonya gave a contented sigh. Sonya tilted her head to the side to give Harriet better access as she started to trail open mouthed kisses up to the curve of her neck.

Sonya twisted around, catching Harriet’s lips with her own in a soft kiss and Harriet tried not to giggle as the change in Sonya’s position made the water spray off of her forehead and right into Harriet’s face. Sonya pulled back before dropping her head down onto Harriet’s shoulder and Harriet spluttered as she got a face full of soap.

Sonya’s head shot up at the sound and Harriet watched through the one eye that wasn’t filled with suds as Sonya’s eyes lit in a way that Harriet hadn’t seen since the glade. Sonya threw her head back and laughed, actually laughed, a full, warm, happy sound that wasn’t forced or half-hearted and the sound made Harriet forget the burning in her eye or her previous worries as the warm feeling of hope set in her chest.

Sonya’s laugh died down suddenly, a sudden tearful look on her face as if she too realised that that was the first time she’d laughed in a while.

“Oh, babe…” Harriet murmured, using the back of one hand to wipe the soap from her eye as she used to other to draw Sonya into her arms, letting the shorter girl try and tuck herself into her chest.

“This is all so stupid,” Sonya muttered angrily and Harriet clutched her tighter.

“No it’s not,” she said, pressing a kiss to Sonya’s forehead, “you laugh and cry and panic as much as you need. I’ve got you. I love you.”

Sonya’s arms curled around Harriet’s waist and she shifted so that her temple was leaning against Harriet’s collarbone, her tears mixing with the still running water.

“I know,” Sonya said with a quiet certainty that made Harriet smile.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... do you hate me less for the wait after that softness?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He broke off as a loud electrical screech echoed through the room. Brenda snapped her hands over her ears with a wince as it pulsed behind her ears. Across from her, she could see hands flying to missing holsters in the momentary panic.
> 
> “What the—”
> 
> The screech cut off.
> 
> “Sorry, sorry.”
> 
> Brenda whipped her head around to look at Aris who was the other side of the room, a wooden wall panel in one hand, while his other rested on a control panel in a hole in the wall and a sheepish look on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating on time? Apparently so. This is also a pretty long chapter so... enjoy.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** People get drunk. Newt's depression. Newt talking/thinking about his suicide attempt in the last piece. If you want to skip it I will summarise in the notes at the bottom.

“What are we supposed to do on the boat in the middle of the ocean?” Minho asked, “did anybody actually think this through?”

Brenda rolled her head around from where she was lying on top of the control panel to look over at him.

“Um…” she said, her eyes drifting around the bridge for inspiration, “yeah, no, we didn’t think that through.”

“We have a soccer ball?” Frypan commented not glancing up from where he was scribbling in the empty notebook he found. He wouldn’t let anyone see what was inside but Brenda was pretty sure it was recipes.

“You wanna play football on a boat?” Sonya asked, raising a questioning eyebrow from the couch that she, Harriet and Aris were intertwined on.

“No, but it’s probably better than the baseball bat and ball that we have,” Frypan said sounding completely uninterested at the same time Minho asked, “Why do you call it football?”

Sonya shrugged. “I dunno,” she said, “I just do.”

“So… soccer or baseball?” Harriet asked before the conversation could sidetrack.

“Soccer?” Thomas suggested, “less chances of it going overboard?”

“We could just play indoors?” Newt said as if it were simple. “In the…. Ballroom.” Brenda’s lips quirked at the way Newt said the world ‘ballroom’ as if he had no idea why anyone on earth could possibly require a ballroom, let alone one on a boat.

“Can we just leave the bridge unattended?” Thomas asked dumbly and everyone looked over at him questioningly.

“This is a twenty-fourth century ship, hermano,” Jorge said and Thomas nodded slowly but still looked somewhere between confused and embarrassed.

“It’s like auto-pilot,” Brenda explained, “but for boats. How do you think we kept moving last night while everyone was sleeping?”

“Oh,” Thomas said, “well, I’m not allowed to touch anything in here so how would I know that?”

Brenda tried not to laugh as Gally gave her a clear ‘wtf, who is this guy’ look. “Weren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I was yes,” Thomas said blandly, “and then I had all of my memories erased so…” he trailed off pointedly.

“Weren’t you all supposed to be a bunch of kid-geniuses?” Brenda asked, drumming her fingernails on the control panel.

“Young people in the upper bracket of intelligence,” Sonya said in a mocking, but hollow voice. “That’s what Ava Paige said,” she finished quietly and Brenda suddenly felt bad for asking at the pained look on the younger girls face as she curled further into her girlfriend’s side, her fingers lacing with Aris’.

“So,” Minho said suddenly and Brenda caught the way his eyes lingered on Sonya in concern before he looked back around the room. “Soccer, who’s in?”

.

They headed down to what was probably once a grand ballroom but now the wallpaper was shredded in places, the chandelier was covered in dirt with pieces missing and one of the glass panes to the now broken elevator was shattered. It, like the rest of the boat, was a mess.

“We should probably clean this up at some point,” Harriet said, kicking an old ratty blanket to the side, scrunching up her nose as dust clouded up in the air as it landed on the floor.

“We did start to,” Sonya said, climbing up to sit in one of the hammocks that was still strung up from when the boat was full on the way to the safe haven, the toes of her boot brushed against the floor as she rocked herself, “but that was two months ago so… it got dirty again.”

“It’s gross is what it is,” Harriet said.

Brenda gave a hum of consideration and then shrugged. “Well, at least there’s no sand," she said.

“Oh, my fucking God I hate sand,” Minho groaned getting several looks of disbelief in return.

“You were only in the Scorch for a week,” Brenda said, fixing him with a hard look.

“But still,” he said, “it gets everywhere.”

“The stuff on the island is nicer,” Sonya commented, “less coarse.”

“I feel like we’re getting side tracked from the fact that this place is a gross,” Harriet said pointedly and Brenda laughed at the way Sonya rolled her eyes.

“And falling apart,” Gally said, using the side of his boot to scrape the shattered glass to the side of the room.

“Is it safe to be on a boat that’s made entirely out of rust?” Minho asked, bouncing and catching the soccer ball that he’d snatched out of the cupboard.

“Probably not,” Newt said, helping Thomas shove tables to the side, “but when has anything we’ve ever done been safe?”

Minho hummed thoughtfully. “True,” he said, “well, death by this rust bucket isn’t exactly the way I imagined going but…” he sighed dramatically.

“I’m here with all of you shanks; that’s exactly how I imagined going,” Frypan said, “especially with Thomas around.”

“You volunteered to come with me on many of those occasions,” Thomas defended himself half-heartedly.

“Does this trashcan even have a name?” Brenda asked, “I feel like if I’m going to die on it then it should at least have a badass name.”

“Boaty McBoatface,” Minho suggested brightly. Brenda closed her eyes, taking a second before she looked across at him with a blank expression, unsure if she’d even heard him correctly. Judging by Newt’s judgmental scowl across the room; she had.

“That is the single stupidest thing you have ever said,” Newt said flatly and Minho deflated.

“How about The Rust Bucket?” Thomas said and Newt turned his judgmental look to him. “What? It is and it’s not like we haven’t all been calling it that anyway.”

He’s got a point. Brenda thought and she could see that by the twisted look on Newt’s face, he thought so too.

Newt sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Alright then,” he said, “The Rust Bucket it is. But I’m not going to be the one to tell Vince.”

“I’ll tell you what we should do?” Minho said, throwing the soccer ball to Newt who caught it on the tips of his fingers and threw it back.

“What?” Newt asked, feigning interest at Minho’s next weird suggestion.

 “We should christen the ship,” he said, “didn’t they used to do that back in the day or something? Christen a ship when it got a new name with alcohol and a party. That’s a thing that happened, right?”

“Yeah, with alcohol that we don’t have,” Brenda pointed out, her eyes following Aris as he wandered across the room, his finger trailing against the wall. That kid was still weird.

“We have alcohol,” Gally said casually.

“But not champagne,” Jorge put in, speaking from the first time from where he was leaning back against the wall.

“Who even has champagne, now?” Brenda asked. Even in all of the shady bars she’d frequented in the Scorch, never once had she seen even an empty bottle of champagne.

“Why does it have to be champagne if we have other alcohol?” Minho asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked across at Gally.

Something between and a smirk and a smile flashed across Gally’s face as he looked to Frypan who seemed to catch onto something and smiled.

“I know, you won’t tell me what you need so, the kitchen’s yours for an hour, don’t screw things up and make sure everything goes back where you found it,” Fry said and this time Gally actually smiled; clapping a hand on Frypan’s shoulder before leaving.

Newt ducked his head to hide a grin of his own. Brenda looked around at the others, Thomas too had a small, amused smile on his lips but everyone else looked just as confused as she felt.

“What are we missing?” Sonya asked, looking between Frypan, Newt and Thomas with a raised eyebrow.

Frypan gave a slight laugh. “Back in the glade, whenever there was some sort of celebration; someone getting a promotion, box day, stuff like that, Gally would steal whatever he needed and he’d make alcohol. Nobody knows what was in the stuff but… it was strong and it was good,” he said.

“That’s an understatement,” Thomas scoffed, “it tastes like paint stripper.”

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know what paint stripper tastes like?” she asked and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“It’s a figure of speech,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho said, throwing the soccer ball from one hand to the other, “are we playing or—”

He broke off as a loud electrical screech echoed through the room. Brenda snapped her hands over her ears with a wince as it pulsed behind her ears. Across from her, she could see hands flying to missing holsters in the momentary panic.

“What the—”

The screech cut off.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Brenda whipped her head around to look at Aris who was the other side of the room, a wooden wall panel in one hand, while his other rested on a control panel in a hole in the wall and a sheepish look on his face.

“What the hell was that?” Frypan asked, lowering his hands away from his ears, scowling in Aris’ direction and Aris seemed to shrink back into the corner slightly at everyone’s aggravated attention.

“I didn’t think it’d do anything, I just pressed the music button,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, niño,” Jorge said, moving to stand next to him. Brenda’s lips twitched at the casual, yet observant way Jorge placed a hand on an anxious Aris’ shoulder. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” Hand still on his shoulder, Jorge leant over Aris to look into control panel. He poked a few things inside the wall that Brenda couldn’t see and hummed thoughtfully. “Everything in here seems to be alright, it’s probably the speakers.”

“Do you know what you’re doing in there?” Harriet asked with a concerned look as Jorge pulled a handful of wires out of the wall.

Jorge hesitated and looked over at her with that gleeful grin that meant something both very impressive and terrifying was about to happen. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, “I know a thing or two about rigging up sound systems.”

Brenda smirked, remembering the satisfying way the warehouse had crumbled. “Just… try not to make it blow up this time.”

Jorge chuckled and nodded before he looked back to Aris. “What do you say? Wanna see if you can help me fix this?” he asked and Aris visibly faltered, his eyebrows twitching in surprise.

He glanced across the room to Sonya and Harriet and with Sonya’s reassuring smile, Aris looked back to Jorge and nodded slightly.

“Okay.”

.

They’re “halfway” into their game of soccer when Gally strolls back in with a shit eating grin on his face.

He claps Frypan on the shoulder as he walks past. “Don’t touch the pan in the fridge, it has to sit for a while,” he said vaguely, before rocking forwards to try and tackle an unsuspecting Thomas, who lost his balance as his arms flailed and he hit the floor.

“Foul!” he cried out, like that had meant anything the first four times he called it.

“And it was a foul a minute ago when you shoved Minho into Harriet, but none of them complained,” Newt said completely unsympathetically from where he was sitting in the hammock playing referee. “Get up and stop being a drama queen.”

Thomas pouted slightly, before rolling back up to his feet, throwing himself forwards towards Gally, who slid the ball across to Minho before Thomas could get there. Thomas whipped around to face Minho but Minho just smirked, passing it across to Harriet. Thomas sighed, turning to her as he realised where this was going.

“Whoops,” she said, kicking it backwards to Gally.

“C’mon, guys,” Thomas whined.

“Now he’s getting it,” Gally chuckled, passing the ball to Sonya smoothly but Sonya faltered slightly. Seeing his chance, Thomas dove forwards and as Sonya turned to get out of his way, Thomas threw his arms around her waist from behind, lifting her clean off of the floor to kick the ball across to Brenda.

“Foul!” Sonya shrieked, somewhere between laughter and surprise as Thomas spun her around.

“Foul,” Newt agreed solemnly. “C’mon, Tommy…”

Thomas made an indignant noise of protest, setting Sonya back on her feet, only half aware of her stumbling into Harriet’s arms as he whipped around to look at Newt.

“How is that a foul but Gally shoving me not?” he protested.

“Because I said so is how,” Newt said, not even trying to keep the smile off of his face as Thomas spluttered.

“But—”

“Just play the game, man,” Frypan said, but he too was trying not to laugh.

“Wha—” Thomas looked around at everyone and sighed. “Alright,” he said, throwing his hands up in defeat before smirking across at Brenda and Harriet. “If you think you can’t win fair, then we’ll just have to play by your rules.”

“Or,” Aris interrupted, looking up from the speaker that he and Jorge had just been rewiring, “we can see if this works instead?” He hopped off of the chair he was standing on to move back over to the panel in the wall.

“Hit it, hermano.” Jorge nodded from his place by another speaker.

Aris reached into the wall and pressed a button, a soft electrical hum echoed through the speakers for a moment before music started playing in a quiet, steady beat of drums. Aris pressed something else and the volume slowly increased and other instruments joined in.

“Is this classical music?” Brenda asked, scowling up at the ceiling.

“Mid twenty first century,” Jorge said after he listened to it for a moment. He shrugged as everyone looked at him questioningly. “What? I like old music.”

Thomas’ lips twitched as Brenda rolled her eyes.

“Like I said,” she commented, “as long as you don’t sink us. We’re good.”

Jorge made a considering face but didn’t comment.

“So,” Harriet said, flicking the soccer ball up to catch it, “we have alcohol, we have music. Who wants to have a party?”

.

Music pulsed through the ship loud enough that Newt could feel the beat vibrating through his body. Now that they had _actual_ alcohol Gally’s brew seemed stronger but no less vial and that, combined with the music made the air electric.

Harriet and Sonya varied between dancing dramatically together with lots of twirls and dips to making Aris dance, the three of them holding hands in a circle, spinning as fast as they could until they all got dizzy and fell over. Minho danced with everyone, even Gally, happily and drunkenly and didn’t stop once. Frypan was a surprisingly good dancer once he loosened up. What Newt found even more interesting was Gally and Brenda, he wasn’t sure if they were trying to dance together, or drunkenly have sex on the dance floor; either way, it was somewhere between hilarious and uncomfortable.

In that terrifying and infuriating way that it did, that cold, hollow feeling crept up through Newt’s chest. It coiled around every nerve inside of him, making everything else blur around him, like he was flying through a tunnel and nothing could keep up.

It was one of the few things that Newt couldn’t blame on the flare or the sudden change of… lifestyle. That hollow feeling had been there almost always for as long as Newt could remember. Sometimes it lessened. On some days the feeling faded so much that Newt forgot about it. Until it came back. And it always came back.

Newt pushed himself away from the wall, he wove through the room and headed straight for the door; not stopping until the cool night air hit him, the sudden change of air started to draw him back to the present. He took a deep breath in through his nose, letting the smell of the salt in the sea fill his lungs as he stepped forwards, his fingers tracing over the cold metal rails that surrounded the deck.

Each touch, every breath and sensation helped draw him back to reality, helped him feel something other than the emptiness.

“Hey.”

Of course.

Newt looked up at Thomas who was standing a couple of feet behind him, a hesitant look of worry on his face as he fiddled with his fingers uncertainly.

“Hey,” Newt replied, his voice just as soft.

“Can I join you?” Thomas asked and at any other time Newt might have laughed.

“Since when do you ask?” Newt said dryly, looking back out across the ocean as Thomas stepped up next to him. He couldn’t see far in the darkness, but the lights from the ship reflected on the water as it lapped gently against the side of the boat.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, “I saw you leave.”

“I’m fine,” Newt said, the words rolling off of his tongue out of habit.

“You know,” Thomas said thoughtfully, his words slightly slurred by alcohol, “the whole point of this wasn’t just to find more people or to cure more people and it wasn’t so we could run… It was so we could heal. And not just from the physical stuff, but the stuff in your head too. So, all I’m saying is you don’t have to lie. I don’t think you can get better if you lie about it.”

Newt swallowed thickly, letting the words hang in the air. It wasn’t the first time someone had said something like that to him.

After he jumped Minho had hovered around him awkwardly for several days, hesitating when the conversation turned emotional. Alby, Frypan, Clint, Gally and Winston had all been the same because although Minho had lied to all of their faces about what happened; they all still knew and they’d all told Newt in one way or another that they were there for him.

But now Thomas was.

And that wasn’t anything new. But there was something different when it was Thomas. There was always something different about Thomas and the way he did things; something stronger, more intense. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was something that Newt had come to rely on over the years.

“Here,” Thomas said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “I still have this. It’s yours.”

Newt looked across at him to see Thomas holding out his necklace, with the cord wrapped around his fingers. It swung between them.

Newt faltered, before reaching out with tentative fingers, he let the pendant lay in his hand, his thumb brushing over the smooth metal as he remembered the words he wrote in the letter inside.

“I read it,” Thomas went on softly, seeming suddenly unsure of his words. “I—did—”

“I never wrote a letter before, in the glade when… I didn’t leave any sort of goodbye I just… went. But this time it was slower, different. But know that I meant it,” Newt said, his voice firm and certain. “I meant all of it.”

“I’d follow you anywhere too,” Thomas said quietly and Newt faltered slightly, that was always an unspoken thing between them; it was strange hearing it voiced aloud.

Newt’s lips twitched. “I know,” he said softly, reaching out with the other hand to pull the cap off of the pendant.

“What’re you doing?” Thomas asked and Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the other boy’s impatience as he slid the pages out of the capsule. He put the cap back on and pulled his hands away, letting it swing between them again.

“Keep that,” Newt said, “if you like. But these… I don’t—I don’t need these anymore.”

He unfolded the pages carefully, but rather than reading them, he tore them neatly into little squares. Once he was satisfied, he opened his hands, letting the breeze carry them out to sea and as Newt watched them melt into the water it felt like a missing piece slotting back in place inside of him and the hollow feeling lessened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I should add that Boaty McBoatface is an actual thing that the British public did. Look it up...
> 
> So, if you skipped the last part, Newt started to disassociate from the party, he went outside to get some fresh air and Thomas followed him. Thomas tells him that he's here for Newt and gives him back the necklace. Newt takes out the letters and tells Thomas that he meant every word he wrote and Thomas says that he feels the same way.  
> Newt gives him back the necklace but tears up the letter and throws the remains into the ocean stating that he doesn't need something that resembles a suicide note anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We were a bunch of teenagers locked in a confined space together for several years,” he said with a casual shrug, “emotions ran high. Things happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here it is.  
> Honestly, this chapter is for the discord lot. You know who you are ;)  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Discussions about sex. Nothing is explicit, just conversations and teasing. Brenda freaks out mildly at the start but it's safe, nothing happens. Talks about consent.

The second Brenda woke up she wished she hadn’t. She could feel her brain pulsing behind her eyes before she even opened them and the steady rocking of the boat did nothing to help the violent urge she had to throw up.

Willing herself to go back to sleep, she shifted slightly, trying to pull the covers back over herself but froze as her hand hit something that felt suspiciously like another person and this felt less like a hammock and more like a solid bed.

Oh, fuck…

Brenda opened her eyes slowly, wincing as the bright, late morning sun shone through the windows of the cabin they were in. She tried to ignore how uncomfortable the hangover was, looking down at the arm that was curled around her waist and as she did, she realised that she was missing her shirt and that her jeans were undone.

Double fuck.

A beat of unease passed through her as she realised she had no recollection of how she got here. Twisting around she followed the arm and gave a sigh of relief at the sight of Gally, still fast asleep curled around her, a soft, peaceful expression on his face that made his eyebrows look less angry. Brenda took a second to note that he too was missing his shirt but like her, was still wearing his jeans.

Sliding her bra strap back onto her shoulder she moved Gally’s arm off of her, sitting up slightly before jabbing a finger in his chest.

“Hey, Gally, wake up,” she said, scrunching up her nose as the sound of her own voice made her head pound.

Gally groaned, his eyes fluttering and his eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and pain.

“Br’nda, what’re you doing?” he asked, blinking up at her in confusion and Brenda gave him a second to get his bearings.

“I have no idea,” she said, “what happened last night?”

Gally hesitated. “We were dancing…” he said slowly and uncertainly.

“And then?” Brenda prompted, dancing she remembered.

“And then… Minho told us to get a room and—”

“And I dragged you here,” Brenda finished, remembering lips and tongues and teeth. She remembered Gally’s hands in her hair and her hands tugging at his clothes. She remembered literally falling out of her boots as they tumbled onto the bed together and then she remembered nothing. “And then I think we passed out.”

“But nothing happened?” Gally asked and Brenda shook her head.

“Nothing happened.”

Gally sagged back against the bed with a sigh of relief and Brenda’s eyebrow’s shot up in a mixture of surprise and offence.

“Wow, okay,” she said, “because it would be so bad that you had sex with me, right?”  

She twisted away, making to get up and get dressed but Gally caught her arm.

“Wait, no. Shuck. Brenda, I didn’t mean it like that,” Gally said and Brenda turned back to him with an impatient look, waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s just, you were drunk, we were both drunk and I didn’t want for you to do anything that you didn’t want to.”

“But you being drunk would have been okay?” she asked raising a questioning eyebrow, enjoying the way a soft pink tinted his cheeks and he squirmed, obviously flustered.

“What? No,” he spluttered then sighed. “I just mean that I’m glad nothing went too far last night when neither of us were able to decide what we want.”

Brenda’s lips twitched slightly, that was one of the most articulate sentences she’d ever heard from him.

“So, you don’t want to have sex with me?” she asked, resisting the urge to laugh as Gally’s blush deepened. She tutted playfully. “And here I thought you liked me.”

Gally recoiled slightly, his face scrunching up in exaggerated horror. “Why would you think I liked you?” he asked and this time Brenda did laugh.

“You told me, right after I called Teresa a dick,” she said, watching the way anger flashed across his face at the mention of her name before he looked back up at Brenda and his face softened out.

“Okay,” he said, “so I might like you.”

Brenda pulled a considering face. “Okay, see now I’m getting mixed signals,” she said, leaning closer to him, her hands resting on his thighs, their faces inches apart. “So, which is it?”

Brenda’s eyes flickered down, following the movement as Gally’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“We shouldn’t,” Gally said, his voice strained.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t we all a little too fucked up for relationships?” he asked.

“Agreed,” Brenda said, “but who said anything about a relationship?” Her lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “It could be a one time thing,” she breathed against his mouth, watching the way his eyes darkened with lust. “It could not be a one time thing, just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Not if we don’t want it to.”  

Gally rocked in place for a second, as if he was doing some very fast thinking before saying ‘fuck it.’ He dove forwards, his mouth meeting hers roughly, twisting her around so she dropped back against the mattress in one surprisingly smooth motion. He pulled back slightly, hovering over her, his lips brushing against hers.

“It doesn’t have to mean _that,”_ he said, his voice thick and strained, “but it doesn’t have to mean nothing either.”

Brenda’s lips quirked into an agreeing smirk before pulling him down to meet her once again and as Gally’s mouth moved down the side of her throat all thoughts rushed from her mind.

.

“Morning all,” Brenda said cheerfully nearly two hours later, dropping down at the table in what they’d donned their mess hall.

“Don’t talk,” Minho groaned, his voice muffled from where his head was buried in his arms on top of the table.

“Oh, sorry,” Brenda said, not even bothering to try and lower her voice. Her lips quirked in amusement as he slowly raised his head to look up at her, a mixture of pain, exhaustion and tiredness mixed on his face in a way that could only mean that he was hungover as fuck right now.

“Why are you so cheerful?” he asked. _“How_ are you so cheerful? You drunk as much as the rest of us last night.”

“Because some of us can handle our booze you shank,” Gally said, sitting opposite Brenda, his elbows landing on the table with a thud, causing a variety of flinches, groans and curses to echo around the room.

“I will dislocate both of your shoulders if you do that again,” Harriet said into her cup of coffee and Sonya hummed an agreement from where her head was resting against Harriet’s shoulder without opening her eyes. Brenda watched the way Gally faltered slightly, none of them were stupid enough to underestimate Harriet and Sonya, hungover or not.

Minho squinted suspiciously at Brenda, then Gally, then back to Brenda. “How are you two not hungover?” he asked, “and why do you both look so happy?”

Brenda smirked, swiping his coffee out of his hands. “Why wouldn’t we be happy?” she asked, “we’ve got coffee, our friends, and a whole sea of possibilities in front of us.”

Minho’s look of suspicion increased and even Sonya opened her eyes to look across at her in confusion.

“Jorge,” he said, not looking away from her. “I think Brenda’s broken and I think Gally had something to do with it.”

Brenda caught Gally’s eye across the table and got a sudden reminder of exactly what Gally was doing.

Stepping out of the kitchen, Jorge hummed consideringly. “Brenda can look out for herself,” he said, sounding completely unphased by the night before, “no man can break her.”

Brenda tilted her head back to smile at him as he leant over her shoulder to set the fresh jug of coffee he was carrying down on the table. “Thank you,” she said and Jorge looked down at her and hesitated with an amused and knowing smile.

“But men should be aware that she could break them,” he said, his eyes flicking up to linger on Gally for a minute and out of the corner of her eye she saw Gally shift and nod.

“Oh,” Newt said, speaking up for the first time and when Brenda looked over at him, his eyes were bright and Brenda vaguely recalled something from last night about him not wanting to drink anything.

“Wha’s oh?” Thomas asked from where he was laying across the bench, his head resting in Newt’s lap. Brenda’s eyebrow twitched at their position, wondering what else happened last night.

“Oh,” Newt repeated, a teasing smile on his face as he looked to Brenda, “is Brenda and Gally’s magic hangover cure.”

Minho spluttered into his coffee as the penny dropped and he looked between Gally and Brenda with wide, amazed eyes and Brenda realised for the first time how sheltered these guys had been. She realised that aside from Gally who’d been out in the world on his own and maybe Sonya and Harriet, Thomas and Newt but Minho especially had never really spent any amount of time outside of lab or a controlled environment. Some of them had probably never…

“Did none of you ever have sex in your glades?” she asked bluntly and she was fully prepared to blame the remanence of her hangover at the probably rude question.

“We did,” Sonya said casually, raising her and Harriet’s intertwined hands as Newt threw his head back and laughed.

“We were a bunch of teenagers locked in a confined space together for several years,” he said with a casual shrug, “emotions ran high. Things happened.” His eyes lingered on Harriet and Sonya for a minute. “But I don’t think we were as open about our relationships as you were.”

 Minho pulled a face that made Brenda wonder if he was still drunk. “Alby didn’t want personal relationships to get in the way of… anything that needed to be done,” he said, a sudden bitterness in his voice that made Brenda wonder what he had to do, but she knew better to ask.

“We never had that,” Harriet said quietly, “it’d’ve been pretty hypocritical of us if I enforced that rule.”

“It wasn’t a rule,” Newt said as Thomas settled back against him, “it was more of a strong suggestion.”

“Yeah,” Minho said, a faraway look in his eyes as if he was remembering something long ago. “Clint and Jeff were never exactly subtle.”

Gally scoffed. “Yeah, because you and Ben were,” he said and then faltered, ducking his head at the look of hurt that flashed across Minho’s face. “Sorry.”

Minho shook his head and gave the slightest of smiles. “It’s okay. You’re not wrong. And it's not like you and Ben never..." he trailed off with a pointed look and Gally's lips twitched somewhere between amusment and sadness.

“All right, you bunch of shanks,” Frypan said, coming out of the kitchen, two trays in hand, “fried bacon, fried eggs –and that’s the last of eggs so don’t ask for seconds—fried bread. Everything is fried and that is the perfect cure for Gally’s brew.”

Everyone’s heads shot up, the sombre mood evaporating as food was set in front of them and everyone dove towards it, elbowing each other out of the way to get the best slice of bacon.

“’o, whaddre ee dng toay?” Thomas asked around a mouthful of fried bread, nearly spitting it everywhere. Newt levelled him with a disgusted look until he swallowed and tried again. “So, what are we doing today?”

Newt rolled his eyes at him before turning back to his own breakfast. “I don’t know,” he said, “has anyone actually looked outside today?”

“Hangover,” Minho said, pointing vaguely towards the windows. “Light hurts. No.”

Brenda rolled her eyes at his dramatics as she reached for another slice of bread. “What’s so special about outside?” she asked, squinting towards the windows, ignoring the way her eyes burnt at the light but as they adjusted she realised that it wasn’t that bright after all. It was still pretty dark outside.

“Why is it so dark?” Sonya asked, her voice soft as she drifted towards the windows.

“It looks like a storms rolling in,” Jorge said.

“How long?” Brenda asked, looking back to him. In the Scorch and over the years Jorge had learnt to read the sky better than anybody. He could guess when I lightning storm was coming give or take a few minutes.

“Tonight,” he said with a slight shrug, “early hours of tomorrow.”

“Will this boat withstand a bad storm?” Newt asked, nodding pointedly to the rusted hole in the wall between the mess hall and the kitchen.

Jorge nodded. “Before Vince even put anyone on here we made sure it was safe. Its navigation system, stabilizers, a storm protection is all fully functional. All of the damage is purely cosmetic,” he said, “we even have a variation of the bergs shielding, so if the lightning gets too close that will activate.

“So, we’re safe?” Sonya said a hesitant note of almost fear in her voice that Brenda wasn’t stupid enough to question as Harriet pulled her girlfriend closer into her side.

“We’re safe,” Jorge promised and Sonya nodded but there was still a look of tension on her face. “But, just because the lightning can’t touch us at the boat’s watertight, it doesn’t mean that we won’t still feel the sea. I suggest anything breakable that you have, you secure. It’ll be a rough night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what ya think ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Newt, run. You’ve gotta run,” a female voice full panic said, her accent was what made Newt hesitate, it was like his, British someone had once called it. He had no memories of ever meeting anybody with an accent the same as his before. “Sam, Newt, they’re coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is early and... just read.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Someone has a nightmare and has a panic attack that isn't on screen. Truth comes out.

“Newt, run. You’ve gotta run,” a female voice full panic said, her accent was what made Newt hesitate, it was like his, British someone had once called it. He had no memories of ever meeting anybody with an accent the same as his before. “Sam, Newt, they’re coming.”

Newt was at that tipping point where he wasn’t quite awake but he wasn’t fully asleep either and he wasn’t dreaming but a strange, familiar voice echoed in his ears, barely heard over the cracks of thunder outside.

“Leave him, please! Newt!”

The sound of the girl’s scream jolted Newt awake just as lightning flashed through the windows, illuminating eerie silhouettes across the room. It took a second for him to realise that someone was actually screaming and it wasn’t just a voice in his head.

He reached blindly for the lamp that was on the floor, flicking it on at the same time Thomas and Brenda turned on theirs. Newt’s hand hovered over his Glock that sat on the floor next to the lamp as his eyes scanned the room.

“Sonya, babe, wake up, it’s just a memory. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

Newt followed the sound of Harriet’s voice to see her sitting up in her hammock, looking down at Sonya with a look of anguish on her face as Sonya made broken, strangled noises in her sleep. On Sonya’s other side Aris stood, his lips moving like he was murmuring something but his words were too quiet for anyone else to hear.

_“Newt, no!”_

Newt’s heart jumped as he realised that the British voice in his dream, wasn’t in his dream; it was Sonya.

“Aris,” Minho said, rising to his feet with a hollow look on his face. “Is it—”

Aris looked back at him and gave the slightest of nods and Minho’s head dropped. The word WCKD hung, unspoken in the air with all the memories of pain and torture.

Newt slid out of his hammock, moving slowly towards Minho so as not to startle him.

“Minho,” he murmured and Minho flinched like he’d just yelled into his ear.

Minho glanced up at him with a slight grimace that Newt was sure was meant to be a comforting smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but Newt shook his head, reaching out to squeeze his friend's shoulder comfortingly.

“Newt,” Harriet said, looking up from Sonya with a tear stained expression. “She’s dreaming about you. I don’t—can you—” She broke off helplessly.

Newt nodded, moving past Minho to stand next to Aris. “You said it was a memory,” he said, “but—I’ve never really spent time with her like this.”

Harriet bit her lip, looking between Sonya and Newt with a conflicted expression before she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Newt," she said, “I can’t tell you. That’s up to Sonya.”

Newt hesitated for a second, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before nodding, looking back down to Sonya who was muttering something incoherent in her sleep.

“Sonya,” Newt tried gently. Sonya’s face twitched at his voice.

“New’, no. No, Newt! No!  _No!”_

Newt ducked backwards as Sonya’s arm swung out, her nails narrowly missing the side of his face. Newt caught her hand before she could swing again, he held it between his own firmly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as Harriet pressed Sonya’s other hand against her lips.

“Sonya, its Newt,” he tried again, “I’m here. I’m okay, I’m safe.  _We’re_ safe. You’re dreaming.”

“Sam,” she said and Harriet twitched at the name but Newt didn’t ask.

“Wake up, Sonya,” he said, squeezing her hand gently, but firm enough that she’d feel it. “Wake up.”

Sonya relaxed for a split second before she shot upright with a sudden gasp.

“Wow, wow, hey, Sonya. You’re okay,” Newt said, reaching out to steady her as the hammock rocked violently.

“Wha—” Sonya snapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in panic as she gestured Newt and Aris out of the way. She struggled out of her hammock before bolting towards the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Harriet said, a second and a half behind her.

As they both disappeared Newt looked up at Aris, in a mixture of concern and confusion as lightning flashed again and he flinched violently.

“It was the storm,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the still swaying hammock but it looked as though he wasn’t really seeing it at all. “They did something and she doesn’t like thunder and lightning anymore.”

Newt nodded. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, “nobody’s judging her. You don’t have to stay here. Go and check on her if you want.”

Aris hesitated, rocking on the balls of his feet for a second before he gave a sharp nod and followed after the girls.

Newt let out a heavy breath as he left the room. He ran a hand through his hair tiredly as he turned back to everyone else. Newt half expected them to all be sitting around awkwardly, but everyone was up and already moving. Brenda and Minho were coming back in with armfuls of duvets, blankets and sleeping bags from the cabins. Thomas, Frypan, Gally and Jorge were moving all of the tables over to the wall of windows, laying them on their sides, the flat top against the glass.

“What’re you doing?” Newt asked, feeling like he’d missed something.

“Sonya’s triggered by the storm,” Minho said simply, “we can put some music on to block out the thunder but this blocks out the lightning until we can get some curtains.”

Newt’s lips twitched slightly before he moved forwards to help tie the tables together so they sat on top of each other without falling. 

Once they were stacked Brenda, being the smallest, carefully climbed up the table legs to the top, securing them to the beams on the ceiling before catching the blankets that they’d throw up to her so she could drape them over the gaps. As she swung back down Jorge went over to the wall panel and put the music on loud enough that it muffled the sounds of the thunder, but quiet enough that they could still talk.

“Well, that’s the night then,” Jorge said as they all hesitated where they were standing, unsure of what to do next, but all knowing that there was no way they were going back to bed now. Not if Sonya needed them.

“I’m going to make some tea,” Frypan said quietly with a slight, one shouldered shrug. “It might help.”

“I’ll come too,” Brenda said, following after him. Gally nodded a beat later as if shaking himself out of something before going to catch up.

Newt sat on the edge of his hammock, his toes brushing the floor as he rocked it gently back and forth. He rolled his eyes as Thomas and Minho forced themselves to sit either side of him and without saying or doing anything, they all took comfort from each other in a way that only the three of them could.

.

Time seemed to stretch out slowly. Nobody was keeping track, but seconds merged into minutes and a comfortable silence settled over the room, barely making a sound as they brought in tea.

Aris came back in some time after that, moving halfway back to his bed before he realised that something was different, he hesitated in the middle of the room and Newt watched as his eyes drifted from the speakers on the ceiling to the blocked windows. His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile as he nodded.

“She’s okay,” he said, glancing over at them. “She’ll—”

“It’s okay,” Minho said to Newt’s right, “we get it.”

Aris gave a slight smile and nodded again, looking back to the door as Sonya came back in, a wrecked look on her face as she leant heavily into Harriet’s side.

 “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, all trace of a British accent gone as her eyes drifting from the floor to Newt. “I uh—I owe you an explanation.”

“No you don’t,” Newt said, his voice just as soft. “If you want to talk about it, we’ll listen. But you don’t  _owe us_  anything.”

Sonya looked as though she tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, she bowed her head in a slight nod, taking Aris’ hand, letting him lead her over to her and Harriet’s hammock and the three of them sat together.

“I want to explain,” Sonya said, “I think it’s time that you all know.” Her eyes lingered on Newt. “You deserve to know.”

Newt swallowed thickly, unsure of where this was about to go and even more uncertain about why this included him.

Sonya took a deep breath and even from across the room Newt could see her knuckles turning white as she gripped both Harriet and Aris’ hands tightly.

“Over the six months that WCKD had us, they tried several different variations of the same procedure on all of us to see which was the most effective at producing the serum,” she said in an emotionless, very matter of fact, way. “They’d take away people’s memories, leave them blank again. They hurt the people that we cared about and in two cases that I know of; they gave people some of their memories back. The memories from before. I was one of those two people. I don’t remember everything. Just fragments. Pieces. Names and…”

“People?” Thomas questioned. Sonya looked up at him and nodded.

“WCKD came for me when I was seven years old and my name was Elizabeth, but everyone called me Lizzy. The night they came there was a thunderstorm, we were living in a basement in some abandoned building out in the Scorch. My mom and dad put up a fight, they shot some of the WCKD agents but… there were too many,” she said, her voice breaking as tears fell down her face. “They took me because I was immune, but they took my big brother because he wasn’t.”

Sonya’s eyes flickered up to Newt and he felt his heart jump, pounding in his ears as his hands went clammy. Next to him, Thomas’ head shot up and it finally felt like the pieces were slotting into place. Why Sonya was so adamant that Newt could be saved. Why she was so protective while he was healing. Why she was screaming for him to run…

“They took me to a facility, told me my name was Sonya and that I had no family anymore. But my brother, he befriended one of the other boys he was put with and the two of them would sneak into our dorm to see me," she said. “I don’t remember much after that. He went up before me. Just fragments of the experiments until I woke up in the box and I forgot all about him. Until the lab.”

Newt felt Minho tense next to him and without thinking about it he reached out and took his hand.

“And my brother,” Sonya went on, her hazel eyes burning into Newt’s, her lips twitching slightly. “He found me again without even knowing it. He saved my life and in turn… I refused to give up on him.”

“Holy shit,” Minho breathed. “Holy fucking shit, Newt. You have a sister.”

Sonya smiled shyly, bringing one shoulder up in a slight shrug. “You have a sister,” she repeated.

“Holy shit, you have a  _hot_ sister,” Minho said. Newt faltered, closing his eyes for a second as he resisted the urge to shove Minho out of the hammock and onto the floor.

“Yeah, he does,” Harriet said, managing a slight smirk and both Sonya and Newt paused, the tension in the room breaking as everyone, including them managed to laugh slightly.

“I understand if this changes nothing for you,” Sonya said quickly as everyone sobered back up. “Lizzy died when WCKD sent me up to the maze. I’m not her anymore and you’re not—you’re not the same person either…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting away and Harriet curled an arm around her waist in a gesture that was somewhere between comforting and protective.

Newt took a minute to let the information sink in. His eyes were fixed on the floor as his mind raced, moving so fast that he barely felt when Thomas placed a comforting hand on his back. Eventually, he looked back up, his heart clenching at the almost scared look on Sonya’s face.

“What—” Newt swallowed. “What if I want it to change things?” he asked and Sonya’s eye’s drifted up to meet his, a hopeful light shining through. “Like you said, you’re not who you used to be and neither am I but… but I don’t think that has to matter.”

“Really?” Sonya asked.

Newt nodded. “Just one thing,” he said, then hesitated, “my name, before. It was Sam, right?”

Sonya bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly and as Newt thought about it, he realised that that name Lizzy meant just as much to him as Sam; nothing. There wasn’t even the slightest spark of recognition inside of him.

“Okay,” he said, “I don’t want to be Sam, I’m not Sam. But—but I wouldn’t mind being your brother again.”

Sonya gave a choked sound and dove forwards, across the room to throw her arms around him. Newt caught her just before she could tip the hammock backwards, his arms sliding around her waist as he buried his face in her shoulder. And although Newt had no emotional connection to the memories and names that she had described. Her arms around him and his around her seemed to solidify a strange feeling inside of Newt that he couldn’t quite describe. The closest thing he could relate it to is warmth, comfort, relief. Like something inside of Newt had been searching for this moment in years, his brain just hadn’t known it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone still alive? Cool.  
> Lemme know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watched him with a soft smile. Warmth spreading through her chest as that hollowness inside of her that WCKD had carved out started to fill in and she wondered if this is what the start of closure felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's Monday!!   
> Enjoy Chapter 11!!  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** References to sex. Implied/Reference of suicide - not Newt's.

After a while, Sonya went back to her own hammock but Newt, Minho and Thomas just sort of collapsed into a pile, all of them uncomfortable, but none of them could be bothered to move. As night became day some of them drifted back to sleep but others lay together, having soft conversations about nothing at all. Harriet, Aris and Sonya curled up in a hammock together and Harriet was happy to ignore the way that there was an elbow digging into her ribs and she had a face full of blonde hair.

Eventually, a mixture of hunger and boredom got the best of them and they started to pull themselves out of their slumber to start the day.

Everybody moved slowly, they were all tired but none of them wanted to spend the day laying around dwelling on things. So, halfway through breakfast, Harriet broke the slumber filled silence.

“So, I was thinking that maybe we could start to clear this wreck up today?” she suggested between sips of her coffee, something she didn’t remember having until the Right Arm but wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. “See how much of the lower levels we can actually use, get rid of the broken furniture, stuff like that…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Thomas said, “especially if we might find survivors. They probably won’t all fit in the dining room with us.”

“One of them is habitable,” Brenda commented, her lips quirking slightly. “But the bed isn’t the comfiest. So, my personal recommendation is lying on someone who is lying on the bed.”

Harriet smiled in amusement as Gally sighed and rolled his eyes.

“That wasn’t what you were moaning about at the time,” he said and Brenda threw a piece of crust at his face. It hit the top of his cheekbone and he watched blankly as it fell onto his plate. He looked up at Brenda with a deadpan look that just said _‘really?’_

“And maybe we should wash the sheets too,” Thomas added, conveniently looking the other way as Brenda shot him a dirty look.

.

“What do you mean you _threw the broken furniture overboard?!”_

Sonya looked up from where she was sitting in the middle of the deck, stitching tarpaulins together to replace the barricade in the dining room, frowning softly at Newt’s raised voice as it came through the walls.

“What else was I supposed to do with them?” Gally shouted back and Sonya tilted her head to the side as she listened, almost unsure if she’d heard the exchange correctly.

“Um…” Aris said from next to her like he didn’t know the protocol for when Gally started throwing furniture off the ship.

“I’m gonna go and check on that,” Harriet said, “and make sure Newt or Thomas don’t throw _Gally_ overboard.” 

She pushed herself up off of the floor, her fingers brushing casually across Sonya’s shoulders as she walked past and headed towards the other side of the deck where the others were. Sonya squinted as her eyes followed her girlfriend walking towards the sun.

“Aris, niño, can you lend me a hand?” Jorge called out from where he was wiring something in the wall.

Aris looked at Sonya hesitantly and she smiled, as much as hovering bugged her on occasions. Today was the sort of day that she just wanted to be with people.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, “I’m okay and I’ll be right here.”

Aris gave a half smile, one that seemed almost apologetic about leaving her before he headed over to where Jorge was and they ducked their heads together as they started to pull wires out of the wall, talking animatedly.

Sonya watched them with a soft smile. It was nice, she decided, seeing Aris open up, talk and offer his own opinions. He’d always been quiet in the Glade, always felt too different to really be comfortable there; it was Rachel who brought him out of his shell, got him to laugh and join in with the other girls. But after she died, the light had faded from his eyes and he’d shrunken back in on himself.

And then WCKD took them.

WCKD had learnt within days that separating the two of them wasn’t a good idea. So instead, they were put together and throughout everything WCKD used them against each other and for months it was just the two of them. Every night they would curl up on the bottom bunk together, taking whatever comfort they could get. Sometimes they would talk softly about the Glade, or about Harriet, sometimes when that got too painful they would just lay in silence together, listening to the world outside of their cell.

Minho’s cell was next door, for some reason, they kept him on his own, maybe because he was the only person from his Glade that WCKD had left. But they would talk on occasions, try and calm each other when it got too much. They all talked one another off the ledge so to speak more than once when things seemed particularly dark and the nights long...

Sonya was snapped from her thoughts as Newt dropped down on the floor next to her with an aggravated sigh.

“Everything okay?” Sonya asked softly and Newt shook his head.

“What can I do to help?” he said, “something that doesn’t involve me being near Gally.”

“We were stitching these together,” Sonya said, nodding towards the tarp that Aris had been working on that was closest to Newt. “You know how to sew, right?”

Newt gave her half a smile and nodded. “Don’t expect any fine clothing but I know how to sew a tarp together,” he said and Sonya watched as he picked up the needle that they’d stolen from medical and he continued to stitch the shredded up sheets into the tarps.

“Why was Gally throwing furniture overboard?” she asked casually and Newt shook his head again.

“I don’t even know,” he said, “apparently fixing a chair was too much for him so he thought we should get rid of it.”

“Right…” Sonya said slowly, then shook her head, deciding it was probably better if she didn’t try and understand why Gally did things the way he did. “About last night—” she started but then hesitated, unsure of what she was going to say.

“I meant what I said,” Newt said, “I’m here.”

“Of all the people in the world... What are the chances that we'd already met, huh?" she said. Newt gave a slight laugh in agreement and Sonya watched him with a soft smile. Warmth spreading through her chest as that hollowness inside of her that WCKD had carved out started to fill in and she wondered if this is what the start of closure felt like.

.

Newt jumped at the sudden hand on his shoulder, the blowtorch narrowly missing his hand as he startled. He flicked it off, turning around to see Thomas stood there with an apologetic look on his face. Because of course, Thomas was the one person who thought it was a good idea to sneak up on someone that is using a blowtorch. Newt pulled the scarf away from his face but didn't bother to remove his goggles.

"Sorry," Thomas said, "I did call your name."

Newt shook his head at the apology. "I didn't hear you," he said, waiting for Thomas to go on. But he didn't, instead, he hesitated and Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend. "Spit it out, Tommy."

"I just wanted to see if you were alright," Thomas said, "I mean, it's not every day you find out you have a long lost sister."

 Newt shrugged. "When WCKD is involved are we supposed to be surprised at this point?" he said tiredly. "I'm glad that I know and that she's here but... I—" Newt faltered for a moment. "I thought we were done with WCKD's surprises."

Thomas smiled, looking past Newt out to the sea and sighed. "I don't know if we're ever gonna be done with them completely," he said and Newt nodded, he understood that.

"Now we're just picking up the pieces," he said and the words seemed to hang in the air between them.

“Oi, you two?!”

Newt was snapped out his thoughts as Minho shouted at them across the deck.

“What?” Thomas shouted back and Newt frowned at the irritation in his voice.

“Fry says lunch is done if you aren’t too busy?” Minho said, giving Newt a pointed look that he didn’t understand.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” he said and Minho looked between them for a minute before nodding.

“Uh huh,” he said, turning to duck inside and not for the first time Newt wondered why the fuck Minho did the things he did and judging by the look on Thomas’ face, he was thinking the same thing.

“C’mon,” Thomas said after a beat. “We should go before Minho does something else weird.”

Newt nodded, setting the blowtorch back in its case, locking it with a flick of his thumbs before stepping forward to follow Thomas but Thomas made no indication of moving; instead, he was looking at Newt with a slight smile of amusement quirking at his lips.

“What?” Newt frowned.

Thomas tapped his temple pointedly and Newt reached his hand up, laughing slightly as he realised he was still wearing his welding goggles. He pulled them off, rubbing his hand absently across the bridge of his nose.

“What?” he said, his voice slightly defensive, “they’re comfy.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, with a look in his eye that Newt had seen before when they talked, but he still couldn’t decipher. “It’s a good look though.”

Heat rushed to Newt’s face and he faltered for a second, watching as Thomas started to walk away. Newt smiled softly to himself as a warmth stirred inside of him. He tossed the goggles on top of the case before calling out for Tommy to wait up as he jogged to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cranks,” Gally finished shortly. He reached out, snatching Newt’s rifle from his hands and setting it into his shoulder. He let his cheek rest against the smooth metal as he looked through the scope. A soft breath passed his lips and he heard his heart pulse steadily in his ears as he lined up his shot.
> 
> Du dumb. Du dumb. Du dumb.
> 
> Bang.
> 
> Gally squeezed the trigger smoothly, watching through the scope as the crank reaching for the child jerked backwards; hitting the floor with half of its skull missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the lateness. Urgh, I wanna blame it on Rachel (tattered-dreams) but honestly, I didn't send her the chapter til last Sunday night so... this was never gonna be posted on time.  
> So, in lieu of an apology, have the longest chapter so far and it's lowkey one of my favourites.   
> Enjoy Gally's POV...  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Mentions of coma's and withdrawal of life support.

Thomas stood on the bridge, staring out of the window and across the sea as the shoreline drew closer he could see blurred colours separate into individual shapes. Despite the rubble of crumbled buildings and upturned cars, Thomas’ eyes were automatically to the seemingly endless sand of the Scorch.

“According to Vince’s data that is as old as this Rust Bucket.” Brenda set Vince’s tablet on top of the even older, outdated map on the table and Thomas turned away from the window to see. “There were whispers about some sort of resistance camp in this area,” she said, pointing to an empty space about ten miles from the coast. “But nobody knows what sort of camp or how accurate those reports are. But there’s a good chance that there’s supplies.”

 “Well, the whole idea of coming out here was to try and find other people,” Gally said with a shrug, looking across to Thomas. “So, what’s the plan?”

Thomas, in turn, looked across at Newt who sighed, looking up from the map to look around the room.

“Are we still making plans?” he asked, “we make a plan, we try to execute the plan and it all goes to shit so Tommy improvises and that either fixes the problem or makes it worse. It’s a fifty, fifty. He only ever has eleven percent of a plan, tops.”

“Wha—”

“So, I thought we’d just skip the plan making stage and skip straight to you lot fucking it up,” Newt went on as if Thomas hadn’t tried to interrupt and Thomas sighed but there was no real annoyance behind it, just a little exasperated fondness. After all, his plans _did_ work… mostly.

“So, we’re going to find them?” Aris clarified and Newt nodded.

“We’re going to find whatever’s out there.”

.

Gally had not missed this.

He hadn’t missed the way his boots sunk into the sand under his weight. He hadn’t missed how much effort each step took and he certainly hadn’t missed how hot sand would burn at his lungs and eyes at the slightest of breezes.

Gally hadn’t missed the Scorch a single bit.

They’d brought Bertha off of the ship but as the sand got thicker Jorge had declared that she’d go no further. So they covered her up with some old tarps that were in the back in the hopes that if anyone was out here, they wouldn’t steal her. But leaving the car behind meant they’d have to walk the final mile and nobody was happy with that.

With two months on the island and a week on the boat, some of them had forgotten how to walk up thick sand dunes while for some of them it was like nothing had ever changed.

Gally pushed himself up to the top of the dune, squinting as he looked out across the sand, littered with debris from a fallen building.

“What is that?” Sonya asked, her voice as soft as always and Gally glanced across at her to see that she was squinting at something towards the rubble.

“It’s just debris,” Aris said back but Sonya shook her head.

“No. There.” She pointed across at something that Gally couldn’t see from his position but whatever it was made Harriet swear.

“It’s a kid,” she said and everyone looked across at her in alarm.

“Where?” Newt asked, his voice hard and yet cautious.

“There, a few feet from the debris,” Sonya said, “it’s a child and it’s moving.”

“Not for long it won’t be,” Minho cut in. “Look. There. Is it me or does that look like—”

“Cranks,” Gally finished shortly. He reached out, snatching Newt’s rifle from his hands and setting it into his shoulder. He let his cheek rest against the smooth metal as he looked through the scope. A soft breath passed his lips and he heard his heart pulse steadily in his ears as he lined up his shot.

Du dumb. Du dumb. Du dumb.

Bang.

Gally squeezed the trigger smoothly, watching through the scope as the crank reaching for the child jerked backwards; hitting the floor with half of its skull missing.

The child, a small boy with tanned skin and dark, curly hair whipped around at the noise and he screamed as his horror-filled eyes went from the dead crank on the ground to the group still moving towards him.

“Move!” Gally barked as he lowered the rifle, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking to the child or his former glade-mates, but the group moved forward, drawing their weapons as they raced across the sand towards the group of cranks that was still advancing on the boy.

Gally all but threw himself in between a crank and the boy; jamming the butt of Newt’s rifle into the side of the crank’s head. It stumbled back slightly, giving Gally enough time to draw his sidearm, shooting the crank point blank in the head.

“Get back,” Gally shouted over his shoulder to the boy but he didn’t even seem to hear him; his wide brown eyes locking on Gally and Gally sighed. Did nobody ever listen to him? “Stay behind me!”

Without waiting for a response Gally turned back to the fight. Something in the back of his mind registered other people, people Gally didn’t recognise join the fight. It wasn’t until the last crank went down that he paid them any attention. He spun around, greeted with the barrel of a rifle several inches from his face. Gally faltered; his grip tightening around his own gun.

“Don’t bother,” the girl behind the gun said and Gally clenched his jaw, pointedly sliding his finger away from the trigger. His eyes drifted along her arm, noting the bird tattoo on the inside of her forearm before his eyes settled on her face. And had it not been for the dangerous look in her eyes, Gally would have laughed.

She was tiny. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder and her too slim build did nothing to help how small she looked next to him.

“Put the gun down before someone gets hurt,” he said and the girl tilted her head to the side with a frown, her blonde ponytail falling to the side.

“You do realise that I’m the one holding a gun to _your_ head, dumbass,” she said and Gally’s lips twitched, his other hand drifting towards the knife at his thigh.

“Claire, don’t shoot!”

“Gally, leave her!”

Thomas’ cautious voice mixed in with an unfamiliar male voice but before anyone could say anything further the kid decided that now that the danger was gone, he could move again. He shoved past Gally, slamming himself into the girl’s, Claire’s, side, burying his face in her stomach. Claire winced at the impact and it was just enough time for Gally to raise his pistol, levelling it to her head.

“Gally! Don’t!” Thomas grabbed Gally’s shoulder. “They’re friends!”

Gally frowned, watching as Claire faltered, one hand coming to rest on the back of the kids head as her eyes flickered to an unfamiliar man who came to stand next to her.

“We met them while you were out,” he said to her and Claire narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gally saw some of the strangers start to move back towards their camp, clearly not worried by the standoff.

“You,” she said, looking to Thomas and then to where Newt was. “And you. You’re the ones from the videos.” She holstered her gun with a smile. “Oh, I know all about you.”

“I don’t,” Gally said, not lowering his own weapon and to his relief, Minho, Sonya and Aris looked just as confused. “What the hell is happening?”

“This is Flynn,” Thomas said gesturing to the man, he looked around their age, maybe a little older, with broad shoulders and skin that had been darkened by the sun. Gally’s eyes lingered on a sharp looking scar across the bridge of the man’s nose. “That’s Connor and I see you’ve already met Claire. We met them at a camp while we were looking for WCKD.” Thomas faltered as he looked back at Claire. “What—I thought you were dead?”

Claire shrugged, “I get that a lot,” she said. “Can you get the gun out of my face now? Before someone gets hurt.”

Gally resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her almost mocking tone but at Newt’s nod, he holstered his gun.

“So, we heard WCKD crumbled,” Flynn said looking to Thomas. “Do we have you to thank?”

“We were there,” Thomas said tersely and Flynn nodded in understanding. “What about you?” he asked Claire. “You were…”

“Fucked?” Claire supplied helpfully.

“Lili took her off of the life support before we—she wanted to see if her body would fight. At first, nothing happened and then she just seized and… was responsive again,” Flynn explained. “She wasn’t really with it and Lili doesn’t know why but… she started to recover.”

“I slept a lot and then I got better,” Claire said. “It took a while. I couldn’t do things on my own, I couldn’t eat properly. But…” The haunted look in her eyes faded with a casual shrug, brushing her fingers through Connor’s hair as he looked up at her.

“Hold up,” Minho cut in, “this is Coma Girl?”

Claire scrunched up her face. “Coma Girl?” she said, looking at Flynn accusingly. “Is that what you’ve been calling me?”

“No,” Thomas said, “we said you were a girl _in a coma._ The rest is all Minho.”

“Can someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is happening?” Sonya exclaimed, her confused voice cutting through everybody. “Who are these people?”

Gally saw Newt duck his head to hide a smile and Gally realised for the first time that having a sister like Sonya would probably be good for Newt.

“Why don’t we head back down to the camp and we can talk?” Flynn said diplomatically and everybody whose opinion mattered to Gally looked over at Newt who didn’t hesitate before nodding.

Gally waited for everyone to gather up the weapons they’d dropped during the fight but his eyes lingered on Claire. Her head was ducked down, a curtain of golden blonde hair falling around her face and Connor as she spoke to him softly. After a second Claire sighed, reaching down to pick him up. It looked strange, Connor wasn’t that big, but neither was Claire and it looked as though she struggled as he shifted on her hip, burying his face in her shoulder. Flynn shot them a concerned look but didn’t say anything and it only peaked Gally’s curiosity more.

What was the deal with these people?

What was the deal with the kid?

He didn’t look like Claire or Flynn but it was clear that the three of them were close. Like most people out in the Scorch, they’d probably been through hell together.

Sensing no imminent threat, Gally let his eyes drift away from the trio and over his friends. Nobody looked like they’d been injured in the fight. Aris looked shaken, Harriet was clutching her upper arm and even from a distance, Gally could see blood seeping through her fingers. Sonya was rubbing the back of her neck absently but as she caught sight of Harriet's injury, she rushed towards her. Newt looked exhausted, staring at the body of a crank with an unreadable expression and Gally realised it was the first time he’d been around them since he… since he was sick.

Gally went to step towards him but Thomas got there first. Clamping a hand on Newt’s shoulder, their heads ducked close together as Thomas said something. After a second, Newt jerked his head up, away from the Crank to look up at Thomas and he nodded. Thomas’ arm slid around his shoulders as they followed Flynn and the others down the sand dune towards the camp.

“Jobe! Lili!” Flynn shouted out and a dark skinned man, probably in his thirties, ducked out of a nearby tent and comes over to them.

His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the group after a beat he chuckles. “Well, I gotta admit I never thought we’d be seeing you again.”

“Likewise,” Newt said, shaking the man’s outstretched hand.

A woman, slightly older with greying dark hair steps up behind him and smiles softly. “Hello Thomas,” she said, her eyes drifting over the group. “It’s good to see you all.”

Thomas returns her smile with one of his own. “You too, Lili.”

“Come on,” Flynn said, “we should talk. I’m sure we’ve all got some questions.”

They follow him into the large tent that Jobe and Lili just came out of. Either side was lined with clearly handmade cots and they reminded Gally of the ones that used to be in the medi-hut in the Glade and as his eyes drifted around the tent, he realised that that was what this was. A makeshift medical centre.

“Is anyone hurt?” Lili asked, her eyes lingering on Connor who was still hiding in Claire’s hair. “Or infected?”

Everyone shook their heads and nobody so much as looked in Newt or Brenda’s direction.

"Harriet is," Sonya said sharply, pushing past Thomas, her arm around Harriet's waist.

"It's not that bad," Harriet insisted. "It's just a scratch."

"Let me see," Lili said, beckoning her forwards to sit on the edge of one of the beds and Gally didn't miss the worried look that Lili and Jobe exchanged and apparently neither did Harriet.

"It's fine," she said. "The Crank tried to grab my knife and I tried to move it away but caught my arm instead.” Harriet shook her head at herself. “It’s not infected. I’m fine.”

Lili nodded but didn’t seem convinced as she and Sonya helped Harriet out of her jacket and sweater. As they were doing that, Gally watched as Claire carried Connor away from the group. She sat with him on a bed, their backs to the others as Flynn knelt on the floor in front of them as he and Claire tried to coax Connor out of her shoulder.

Harriet hissed in pain, snapping Gally’s attention back to her as Lili pressed an antiseptic covered pad to the gash in her arm.

“Sorry,” Lili murmured, wiping the blood away. “So, what are you doing out here?” she asked, clearly trying to distract Harriet as she wrapped the girl's arm. “What of Vince?”

“He’s fine,” Thomas assured her quickly, “and there are more survivors. Near two hundred. After we took WCKD down, we found the Safe Haven.”

“Found it, more like started it,” Brenda scoffed.

“I thought the Safe Haven was a myth,” Lili said, looking up from Harriet with a soft look of surprise on her face.

“It was,” Jorge said, “at first.”

“Why don’t we start at the beginning,” Jobe said, his eyes lingering on Aris’ confused look and Gally leant back against the table behind him as Thomas launched into the story of how they saved a bunch of kids, brought down a scientific agency and started a new society on a remote island; casually skipping the incriminating parts here and there.

“That’s quite a story,” Lili said, clearing up her medical supplies as Sonya helped Harriet back into her jacket.

“So, you’re telling us that there’s a safe place?” Jobe said, “away from the flare and… everything?”

“No crank has been there,” Frypan said and if Lili or Jobe saw Newt and Thomas exchange a look, they didn’t comment.

“If there’s a Safe Haven,” Flynn said, as he, Claire and a still nervous looking Connor came back to join the group, “why did you all come back here?”

“To look for survivors,” Thomas said with a slight shrug. “And to find a way to recreate the cure for the flare.”

A beat of silence passed over the tent as everyone’s attention snapped to Thomas and Gally was once again reminded how stupid Thomas could be and how much effort it took to not punch him.

“A cure?” Claire scoffed, breaking the silence. “I’m pretty fucking sure if there was a cure for Cranks then we would have heard about it.”

“Recreate?” Lili said, “you know of a cure being used before?”

“It was discovered right before WCKD fell,” Thomas said quickly, “the scientist who worked it out died in the city.”

“And you know it works?” she said, her eyes drifting across the group as if looking for a sign that one of them had been infected.

“Twice.” He nodded. “Both people are fine now. Completely back to normal.”

“And those people…” Jobe trailed off.

“Aren’t here,” Gally finished curtly before Thomas could open his mouth again, not as willing to trust this group of strangers as the others were.

“We haven’t heard of any such cure,” Flynn said.

“What about other survivors of WCKD?” Harriet questioned. “Or other resistance camps?”

Claire, Flynn, Jobe and Lili exchanged a series of long looks before Claire looked back to Harriet and gave half a nod.

“We might know of one or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... worth the wait?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’ve always… had something,” Gally admitted and he wasn’t sure if even Thomas and Newt themselves knew what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, getting back on track with posting on Mondays with a whole 30 minutes to spare!  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Implications of Suicide. Implications of child illness and death. Discussions of medical euthanasia.

Newt handed over the coordinates for the Safe Haven and in return got a list of Right Arm bases and camps of survivors. Jobe had warned them that a lot of the camps hadn’t made contact in months, some years, but if there was a chance that there were survivors; Newt had no doubt they would find them.

As the night drew in and with nobody having much desire to traipse back across a Crank filled Scorch in the middle of the night, Lili offered them all a hot meal and a tent for the night.

“Hey! Thomas? Newt?”

Newt hesitated just outside of the medi-tent at the sound of Flynn’s voice and he and Thomas turned around in unison, shoulders brushing as Flynn, Claire and a still nervous looking Connor came to a stop in front of them.

“What’s up, guys?” Thomas asked and Newt noted the way his eyes hovered on Claire for a beat too long like he was still amazed to see her standing there before he looked down at Connor who was still half hiding in Flynn’s side. “Hey, Connor. It’s good to see you again, buddy.”

Connor looked up at him and gave a shy smile. “Hi,” he said quietly before shrinking back into Flynn. Watching him made Newt wonder what it was like to be a child in this world. And watching Connor’s responses to it, made him almost grateful that he didn’t remember.

“Look, a couple of those camps we gave you, we used to know a few people there,” Flynn said, his voice almost hesitant. “They’re not exactly gonna be welcoming if a group of strangers turn up and tell them to go to an island in the middle of nowhere.”

“What are you saying?” Newt frowned.

“Do you have three more spaces on your boat?” Claire asked bluntly.

Newt’s eyebrows shot up and he and Thomas exchanged a look of surprise.

“You… wanna come with us?” Thomas asked in surprise.

“Why?” Newt asked bluntly before either of them could say anything and he narrowed his eyes as both of them hesitated.

“We told you. There are—”

Newt cut Claire off, “Contacts you have at some of these camps, yeah,” he said, “and why else?”

They both hesitated, Flynn brushed his fingers through Connor’s hair absently before looking down at him.

“Hey, Connor, why don’t you go see Lili? You know how she appreciates your help before dinner?” he said. Connor frowned, clutching at Flynn’s jacket tighter; his eyes fixed on the floor. Watching him made Newt wonder what had happened to the bright boy from a year ago and if it had anything to do with the fact that they hadn’t seen his mum in their time here.

“Do I have to?” Connor asked, his voice soft and almost afraid.

“Of course not,” Flynn said instantly. _“But_ I heard that Lili has some of that cake you like so much stashed away so…”

Connor looked up at him with sudden, suspicious interest. “Really?”

“Really.” Flynn nodded solemnly, like the topic of cake was the most serious thing in the world.

Connor looked around Flynn’s back to where Lili was moving crates of food towards the makeshift kitchen before looking back up at Claire and Flynn nervously.

“Go,” Claire encouraged softly, bopping him on the nose. “We’ll come find you in a minute.”

Connor nodded, twisting out of Flynn’s arms to run over to Lili and the four of them watched him go.

“Is he okay?” Thomas asked quietly, clearly noticing the difference too.

“No,” Claire said honestly, looking back to them. “But he’ll get there.”

“His mum?” Newt guessed softly and both Claire and Flynn’s looks darkened as Flynn nodded.

“A few months after we left you. She got infected and didn’t tell any of us. We woke up one morning to find a note and a gun missing,” Flynn said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Connor already has enough reason to be terrified of Cranks. But after that…”

A sombre silence hung over them for a minute and Newt tried to remember the woman.    He’d never actually interacted with her, but he remembers braided dark hair and a warm smile for her son.

“She left a letter for us and one for Connor. Our one… she told us that people in Connor’s family have a history of getting the Flare young without being infected,” Claire said. “None of us can know for sure if we’re immune or not but… if Connor isn’t immune. If there’s the slightest chance that he can be infected when there’s a working cure out there. Then we’re going to help you find it.”

Newt found his eyes drifting back towards Connor who was ‘helping’ Lili lift hessian bags of flour off of a truck and into a pile. Newt remembered Thomas and the boy together, talking and watching videos. He remembered the hope that shone in his eyes, a hope that was so rare after spending time in the brutality of the Scorch.

It was well known that children’s bodies never usually survived the transition from healthy to infected. Their bodies were too small to deal with the stress of the illness and they often shut down before they became a Crank. Newt remembered Brenda saying something about the oldest recorded changed was about twelve. Some speculated it was more to do with hormones than body durability. But none of them could know for sure. At the end of the day, they were all just guessing.

But Newt’s heart clenched, horror twisting in his gut as he remembered the fire burning through his veins, the anger raging in his chest as he turned. He remembered begging for it to end. Trying to make it end. And the thought of a seven year old going through that was… Newt didn’t think there were words to describe how horrifying it was.

He dragged himself out of his thoughts as he looked back to Claire and Flynn. “We’ll talk to the others,” he said, barely having to glance at Thomas to know that he agreed, “and let you know in the morning.”

Claire nodded as Flynn inclined his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “Thank you.”

.

Gally swirled the dregs of his coffee in his cup absently, the warm glow of the campfire a blessing in the prickly, chill of the desert.

“You shouldn’t stare, ya know?” Brenda said from where she was sitting on his left.

“’M not staring,” Gally lied, tearing his eyes away from Claire, Flynn and Connor who were in line to get their dinner. Frypan and Minho were next to them, talking animatedly about something.

“Liar,” Brenda said, a teasing smirk on her lips. “I get it, she’s hot. But I’m pretty sure she’s gonna punch you if she catches you staring at her like that.”

“I’m not—” Gally huffed. “I just wanna know what the deal is. You know?”

“I know bits of it.” Brenda shrugged. “Thomas didn’t tell us everything. All I do know is that there was an… accident and she nearly died. I didn’t get involved.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Gally’s head whipped around at Claire’s blunt tone. She dropped down on the log next to Gally, holding Connor’s metal tray filled with stew as he dropped to the floor in front of her and Flynn, crossing his legs as Claire set the tray on the floor in front of him.

“I blew up a building to get a bunch of people out,” she said, nodding in Connor’s direction. “But I couldn’t get out in time and… something happened and I was in a coma for about a month. Thomas was surprised to see me alive because they were supposed to unplug me a couple of days after they left.”

“Unplug…”

“Euthanize. Cut life support. Smother me with a pillow. Etcetera,” Claire said and next to her Flynn seemed to wince and Gally resisted the urge to laugh. “What?” she prompted, noting the look on his face.

“Nothing,” he said shaking his head, “just… people around here seem to have a habit of being in positions that cost friends their lives.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Claire scoffed, a tired smile on her lips as she shook her head slightly. The amber glow of the fire dancing in her eyes.

“Why weren’t you with Thomas before when they were here?” Connor asked around a mouthful of bread, looking up at Gally curiously.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” Flynn scolded lightly, “it’s gross.”

Gally hesitated. “Thomas… about a year ago something happened and Thomas and the others thought I’d died. But I didn’t. And I found them again right before we brought down WCKD,” he explained briefly, unsure how appropriate it was to explain these things to a small child. But Connor, Claire and Flynn didn’t seem phased.

“Oh,” was all Connor said. He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Hey, Connor,” Brenda said, her knee resting against Gally’s as she leant around him to look at the boy. “Earlier Claire said something about seeing us on videos. Were they yours?”

Connor nodded. “Flynn and me videoed stuff so Claire knew what she had missed when she woke up,” he said.

Brenda’s eyes brightened and she bit her lip to stifle a grin. “And what was on those videos about Newt and Thomas?” she asked.

Connor shoved the last of his bread in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out as turned to Flynn and made grabby hands towards him but Flynn just raised an eyebrow. Gally’s lips twitched in amusement as Connor huffed, swallowing his mouthful of food and looking back to Flynn.

“Can I have the tablet please?” he asked and Flynn reached into his bag and passed Connor a battered looking tablet. “Thanks,” Connor muttered as he took it, barely seeming to notice as Flynn ruffled his hair affectionately.

After a minute of poking at the touch screen, Connor pushed himself up to stand in front of Gally, tilting the screen so they could all see and hit play.

Despite the fact that the device was old and clearly battered, the quality was surprisingly good. Given the height and the shakiness of the camera, Gally guessed that Connor had recorded this.

On the screen, Newt and Thomas were sitting next to each other against Bertha. Newt’s arm was slung around Thomas’ shoulders casually as Thomas laughed at something, his head falling against Newt’s collarbone. Newt seemed to falter at the action, looking down at Thomas with a soft smile on his lips.

“I remember this,” Brenda said, her voice soft. “It was the first time we saw Thomas laugh since Teresa. This was about a month after…”

As if on cue, the Brenda of a year ago dropped into the frame on the other side of Newt and Gally took a second to notice how different she looked. Her hair was cropped short and she was thinner than she was now, almost unhealthily so and Gally remembered the story of her being infected just days before Teresa betrayed them. If this was only a month later, then she was probably still not a hundred percent.

“Have they always been this close?” Claire asked leaning over Gally’s shoulder to watch as the screen went black and came back with a picture of Jorge, Newt, Thomas, Brenda and an unfamiliar brown-haired girl sitting around playing cards.

Gally shrugged slightly helplessly, remembering Thomas’ first night, and every other night in the Glade. How although it wasn’t Newt’s responsibility, he took Thomas under his wing and despite everything; was willing to follow him to the end of the earth.

“They’ve always… had something,” Gally admitted and he wasn’t sure if even Thomas and Newt themselves knew what it was.

.

Thomas ducked into the medi-tent as everyone else was heading to dinner.

“Thomas.” Spence, the camps resident doctor, looked up from his clipboard with that friendly, but tired smile that everyone seemed to wear nowadays. “It’s good to see you again,” he said as he shook Thomas’ hand.

“You too.”

“Now, what can I do for you?” Spence asked and Thomas hesitated for a second, unsure of where to start.

“Did Lili tell you?” he asked.

“About the cure?” Spence nodded. “She did. And I’m guessing you know more about it than you mentioned earlier?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “You could say that. It’s me. I’m the cure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Thomas is telling people. Thoughts on Claire, Connor and Flynn?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright,” Newt said, his lips twitching and then for old times’ sake more than anything he went on, “all those in favour?”
> 
> Frypan gave a slight laugh, Minho scoffed and Gally rolled his eyes but they, along with everyone else in the tent raised their hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for how delayed this chapter is. Things have been especially crazy recently. I've been in and out of hospital a lot, my healths been a little crazy, I'm about to graduate college and in the process of getting ready to move out. So, writing hasn't been easy.   
> That does mean that I can no longer guarantee weekly updates for which I apologise. It also means that this chapter is pretty short.   
> **Chapter Warnings:** Discussions of Infection. Discussions of Suicide.

Spence took a slow step backwards, confusion spreading across his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You’re the cure?”

“You know where we come from? Newt, Fry, Minho… you know about WCKD’s research and the Maze’s and everything?”

Spence nodded slowly.

“Well, they weren’t just testing to see if we were immune or not. They already knew which of us were and which of us weren’t,” Thomas explained, “they were trying to recreate our immunity and in doing so they discovered why we’re immune.”

And so Thomas explained the whole thing. The experiments, enzymes, Mary, Laurence, Teresa and the fact that this had worked twice without actually mentioning the names of those cured.

Once he was done Spence stared at him for a solid minute, not saying a word as he processed the information.

“I—”

He stepped back, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of a cot.

“I don’t know how to separate enzymes,” he said regretfully, “I’m a Doctor, not a biochemist and even if I was; I don’t imagine we have the right equipment here.”

Thomas remembered Mary in a tent in the middle of the Scorch, curing Brenda, with a few vials and a blood sample but he remained silent; instead, just nodded.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Spence said, looking genuinely regretful. “The most I can do is offer you some more medical supplies to take with you. We can’t spare much, only a couple of crate fulls but, it’s better than nothing…”

Thomas tried to hide the disappointment behind a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

.

What was once a roaring fire had died down into a warm glow of embers and the rest of the camp was starting to turn in for the night around them.

Flynn had a half-asleep Connor curled up against his shins and judging by the way nobody reacted, Gally guessed it was normal.

“Alright guys,” Lili called out, coming up behind them, a lantern in hand, “pack it up. Lights out!” She looked at Claire’s raised eyebrow with a sigh. “Yes, alright. Not you, but make sure that our guests are comfortable before you go to bed.”

Claire nodded absently. “Will do.”

Next to her, Flynn reached down, carefully scooping Connor up, settling him on his hip. Gally noted that with Flynn’s height and build, it looked more natural for him to carry the kid than it did Claire.

Connor whined something, twisting around to try and reach for Claire as he blinked blearily.

“You’re fine,” Claire assured him softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand slightly, “go with Flynn, I’ll be there soon.”

Connor mumbled something else sleepily, too quiet for Gally to make out. But whatever he said made the soft look in Claire’s eyes sad and it looked as though for a moment Flynn held him tighter.

“I know,” she said, “I know. I’ll be there soon. You’re good with Flynn.”

Connor pulled his hand back, burying his face in the shoulder of Flynn’s jacket and let the man carry him away.

“Is he going to be okay?” Gally asked, surprised at the concern that lingered in his chest as he watched them go. “That Crank got pretty close earlier.”

Claire turned back to the fire, worrying at the inside of her lip as she nodded.

“He’ll be fine,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced, “it’s not the first time he’s had a close call.”

“His mom?” Brenda asked softly.

Claire looked across at her, her soft features hardened in a way that Gally had only ever seen after time in the Scorch. She shook her head.

“About four months ago,” she said, “I.R.S.”

Brenda closed her eyes for a second and nodded in understanding but Gally frowned.

“What—what’s I.R.S?” he asked.

Claire looked at him curiously as Brenda answered “Infection Related Suicide,” she said softly and something uncomfortable twisted in Gally’s gut as he remembered what Frypan had told him about Winston.

 “She left two letters, one for Connor and one for Flynn and me,” Claire went on. “She asked us to take care of him. So we did.” She shrugged slightly, like deciding to take in a young, traumatised child in the middle of an apocalyptic event was the easiest decision in the world.

“Who is he?” Gally asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “He doesn’t look related to you…”

“He’s not,” Claire said, “that building I blew up? I blew that goddamned building up so Connor, his mom and Flynn could get out. When it put me in that fucking coma Connor barely left my bedside. He didn’t take the thought of me dying well apparently. And when I woke up… I had another shadow for a while. But now, we’re all he really has and vice versa.”

A hollow silence hung in the air for a moment. What was true for Claire, Flynn and Connor was true for most of them.

Maybe they’d all started out with proper families once but now… now it was just groups of mismatched people saving each other’s lives and giving family a new, albeit strange definition. And it worked.

Claire snapped her eyes away from the simmering embers suddenly, her demeanour changing in a heartbeat as she rose to her feet.

“Alright,” she said, her voice raised to catch the other’s attention, “c’mon, I’ll show you all where you’re crashing for the night.”

Gally tipped the dregs of his coffee out as he and everyone else followed her lead.

“You’re all in the medi-tent for tonight,” she said, leading them back the way they’d come. “It’s the only place we have with enough room for all of you and nobody is in there at the minute.”

She pulled back the opening for the tent, ducking inside to flick on a couple of the lamps. She looked around with a thoughtful noise.

“I feel like this is the point where I’m supposed to give you a ‘this is where everything is and if you need anything speech’ but you know where everything is and if you need anything don’t wake me up unless someone is actually fucking dying, not a single fucking second earlier.”

Gally glanced away to stop himself laughing but he caught Brenda’s eye and she too was biting her lip to try and hide a grin of her own.

“Thanks, Claire,” Thomas said and Claire nodded slightly. Her eyes sweeping around the tent once more before heading out, calling out a quick “night!” over her shoulder to which everyone returned.

.

There was a small scuffle over who got which bed before everyone started to settle down, lounging around on cots before they actually went to sleep.

“So,” Thomas said, drawing everyone’s attention from where he leant back against the table next to Newt, “we were talking to Flynn and Claire before, they, and Connor want to know if we have three extra bunks.”

“What did you say?” Harriet asked.

“We said we’d talk to you,” Newt said, “they’re basically strangers. If you don’t all feel comfortable having them on board then they won’t come.”

“I’m okay with it,” Brenda said from across the tent with a slight shrug and next to her Jorge nodded.

“I have no issues,” he said.

“Alright,” Newt said, his lips twitching and then for old times’ sake more than anything he went on, “all those in favour?”

Frypan gave a slight laugh, Minho scoffed and Gally rolled his eyes but they, along with everyone else in the tent raised their hand.

“Alright then,” Newt said, dropping his hand. “Looks like we’ve got more crew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... thoughts? Worth the wait? Hate it?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas met Newt’s eyes, and some of the tension seemed to drain from the air as his lips twitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peaks out from behind my laptop nervously* Hi... so, two and a half months, huh? All I'm gonna say is I'm so sorry and not make excuses.  
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Discussions about Newt's brief stint as a mouth-foaming Crank.

Soft light against his closed eyelids drew Thomas out of his restless slumber. He lay still for a moment, willing his body to be drawn back into sleep by the soft rocking of his hammock and the wave—

There were no soft rocking motions.

This was firm and unrelenting.

He shot upright in bed, one hand reaching for his side-arm as he tried to get his bearings.

“Tommy?” the soft, simply spoken word drew Thomas back to the present. His hand sliding away from his gun as he looked to the left to Newt’s cot.

Newt was sitting upright, his right leg hanging over the side of the bed with his left tucked underneath him. His rifle lay in pieces on the blankets in front of him, clearly, he’d been awake for a while.

Thomas knew better than to ask if he was okay, of course he wasn’t. How could he be? How could any of them be?

Instead, Thomas let his eyes drift across the rest of their friends. Jorge and Frypan’s beds were both empty; no doubt the latter had gone to find out if he could lend a hand for breakfast and Jorge could be anywhere.

On a cot designed just for one person, Sonya, Harriet and Aris were tangled together, limbs hanging over the edges precariously. And Thomas couldn’t be sure but from where he sat, it seemed as though Brenda and Gally were holding hands between their beds which made him smile slightly at the softness of the gesture.

“What time is it?” Thomas asked, pushing himself to sit upright, crossing his legs on the bed.

Newt shrugged slightly. “Early,” he said, his voice thick and tired, “barely light. Fry only just left for the kitchen and Jorge went for a walk about an hour ago; said he’d be back before breakfast.”

Thomas nodded, rubbing a hand across his face to try and get rid of the remanence of sleep and his dream.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked after a minute, careful to keep his voice low so as not to disturb the others.

Newt’s fingers faltered over the hinge he was cleaning as he considered the question. “Before Jorge left.”

Thomas resisted the urge to push, to tell him that that wasn’t really an answer, but judging by the way Newt’s shoulders hunched and the prominent dark circles under his eyes, Thomas guessed he had been awake most of the night.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, watching Newt carefully.

Newt’s eyes flickered up to him almost in surprise before focussing back on cleaning the gun.

“I don’t remember the entire time I was a crank,” he said slowly, as if choosing each word carefully. “I remember attacking you. I remember having a gun in my hands… but mostly I remember the anger. It was more than that it was… rage or whatever’s worse. I wasn’t me then. But I was before.”

Newt sniffed, frowning as he scrubbed a stubborn piece of grease out of the barrel and Thomas wanted to reach out and gently pry the rag and the gun out of his hands. But he didn’t. Pressing his fingertips into the blankets; he waited.

“Before cranks were some… _things_ that were there,” he went on, “we killed them or they killed us. I didn’t think about them much, if they feel anything, if they remember what it’s like to be human. But now I know they do and it makes me want—” Newt broke off with a shake of his head as if he didn’t know what it made him want.

“It was easier before,” he said finally, “thinking that there was nothing to them, thinking that that was all they had…” He trailed off, looking up, his eyes finally meeting Thomas’.

“…And that they couldn’t be cured,” Thomas finished just as softly, that heavy feeling pressing down harder in his gut. “I often wonder what would’ve happened if Teresa would’ve had more time. Maybe there wouldn’t still be this many Cranks.”

“What would’ve happened if I’d never been infected and you never discovered your blood held the mystery power? What would’ve happened if Newt had never been infected?” Brenda said gruffly from the other side of the tent, still laying away from them. “Nobody fucking knows. So please stop with the ‘what ifs’ because it’s five in the morning and too early.”

Thomas met Newt’s eyes, and some of the tension seemed to drain from the air as his lips twitched.

“A—fucking—men,” Minho chimed in, “I’m just too polite to interrupt.”

“Yeah, right.”

“That’s bullshit and we all know it.”

Harriet and Gally said at the same time and Thomas laughed slightly at the affronted noise that Minho made.

“Ya know,” Sonya said, brushing her hair back from her face as she looked around, “just once, I would like to be woken up in a normal way. No weird conversations, no fighting, just a kiss from my girlfriend and caffeine.”

Harriet smacked a loud, pointed kiss against Sonya’s lips.

“Better,” Sonya murmured contently.

“But you’re gonna have to get up for the caffeine,” Harriet said almost regretfully.

Sonya groaned, burying her face back in Aris’ shoulder. “I fucking hate you all.”

.

Eventually, everyone dragged themselves out of bed and the tent, all heading straight towards the kitchen as the camp was starting to come alive.

As suspected, Frypan was making himself busy, apron on, dishing up some sort of beans on toast.

“Morning,” he said as Brenda took a plate from him.

“Morning,” she said in return. “Have you seen Jorge? Newt said he went for a walk.”

“He was talking to Lili by the fire pit last I saw. They’re talking about the supplies we’re taking and how we’re gonna take them,” Frypan said, “A crew is gonna drive us back to the coast.”

“Good,” Minho said, “I haven’t missed trying to walk through The Scorch.”

Brenda rolled her eyes, helping herself to a cup of coffee. “It’s not that bad,” she said, “you’re all just used to grass and concrete.”

Minho opened his mouth to reply, but Frypan was quicker, snatching the roll off of Minho’s plate and shoving it in his mouth. Minho gave a muffled sound of protest but Frypan simply raised an unbothered eyebrow.

“Go eat,” he said firmly as if he was talking to a five year old. “The sooner you eat, the sooner I get to be back in my own kitchen.”

Minho rolled his eyes dramatically as Brenda laughed and the two of them stepped out of the line to join their friends by the unlit fire.

Brenda headed towards the log that Jorge was sitting on, her eyes lingering on his haunted expression for a moment. He looked up as she joined him and gave her as much of a reassuring smile as he could manage and she let her elbow bump his as she sat down, reminding him silently that she was there for him. He nudged her back without glancing away from his conversation with Lili, a wordless reminder that the feeling was mutual.

.

Everyone packed everything upped after breakfast and The Bucket’s Crew, as Brenda had come to call them in her head, were sitting in the bed of one truck, crates of supplies in a second. Jobe was escorting them back to The Rust Bucket with a brunette named Kimmi and an unfamiliar man whose name Brenda thought began with a D.

Brenda sat with her back against the cab, the back window half open so she could hear Connor’s fifty questions about what was happening and why they were leaving the others behind and Flynn, Claire and Kimmi answered them all patiently. It was kind of cute.

The journey to the coast that took a full day’s walk barely took three hours by truck and Brenda felt a strange rush of relief and warmth at the sight of the derelict boat.

“It looks real… homey,” Kimmi said her eyes scanning over the boat and even Flynn and Claire looked slightly more dubious.

“It’s nicer inside,” Minho said, getting several doubtful looks from the rest of the crew. “Well, some parts are nicer anyway.”

“I’m sure it is,” Flynn said, a faux positive note in his tone.

“C’mon,” Newt said pointedly, as the guys from the camp drifted closer together, “let’s just get this stuff unloaded.”

Brenda hiked her bag back up on her back and headed for the other truck, helping Aris pull one of the crates down as Jorge disarmed whatever he called security on the ship. At the door, they passed the crate off to Gally who lifted the heavy box like it weighed nothing and Brenda turned back to go for the next one.

She hesitated by the truck, her eyes lingering on the small group saying goodbye as Jobe and D headed back to the truck. Kimmi hugged Connor and Claire for a final time before reaching up to press a soft but urgent looking kiss against Flynn’s lips. She rested her forehead against his for another minute, murmuring something softly before pulling away.

Brenda looked away quickly, pulling the final box out of the truck. It was less weird and more surprising. She’d always just assumed that he and Claire had had… something. Her mind drifted to Gally, wondering if their relationship looked like Kimmi and Flynn’s or if it seemed like more to people outside.

Kimmi climbed back into the cab with Jobe and the truck roared to life. Brenda stepped around it, looking from the ship to the awkward looking trio and their bags.

“Ready then?” she asked, Flynn and Claire smiled and nodded, swiping their stuff up from the floor but Connor was staring at the truck Kimmi had just gotten into a soft look of sadness on his face, like the reality of leaving these people behind was just catching up with him. “Hey, Connor,” Brenda said softly, he looked up at her slowly. “Have you ever slept in a hammock before?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it won't be another two and a half months.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what do you do without the fire?” Claire asked, squinting as the sun cracked from behind a cloud.
> 
> “Listen to music? Drink?” Newt suggested, catching sight of Brenda and Gally coming out of the door, heads thrown back in laughter. “Do something crazy?”
> 
> Claire’s lips quirked as she followed his line of sight. “Doing something crazy?” she said. “I think I can manage that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, it's partly Rachel's fault, but also I've just moved and it's all totally crazy right now.   
> **Chapter Warnings:** Sparring, discussions about crank attacks.

Days passed and things seemed to settle into a new routine aboard the ship. Things were slightly different with a kid around, but Connor seemed to like pitching in, especially in the kitchen so nothing changed that much. The closest thing to an issue that arose was Claire threatening to punch Gally if he didn’t stop calling her Greenie, which made him look both fearful and delighted.

When he wasn’t in the kitchen, stirring or learning to cut something, Connor was sitting in his and Claire’s hammock, not even doing anything, just content in sitting. When they’d joined the crew, Claire, Flynn and Connor had been offered actual cabins, away from a bunch of people they barely knew. But the second Connor realised that everybody else slept in actual hammocks he wanted nothing to do with a proper bed.

So the three of them had a little group of hammocks off to one side. Where they still had a semblance of privacy but were just as part of the group as everybody else. The only issue was, Connor had a habit of rolling over in his sleep, tipping the hammock upside down, tangling himself in blankets on the floor, and after the second day, it was decided that it was better for him to share with Claire or Flynn and Connor wouldn’t say so, but he preferred not being alone in a strange place at night.

.

“A bonfire?” Claire said, looking between them blankly. “On a boat?”

“It’s not an actual bonfire,” Newt assured her, leaning back against the railings, watching as everyone else moved stuff around on the deck preparing for another ‘party.’ “We used to have bonfires in the Glade, when new people came up. It’s tradition or… something. Jorge’s trying to clear it up enough so we can have an actual fire but until then we just have to make do.”

“You don’t have to do this on our account,” she said and Newt’s lips twitched slightly as he remembered the warmth of a roaring fire, the wrestling ring and the burn of Gally’s brew. He remembered arms carelessly thrown around each other, heads bowed together, casual and intimate touches shared. Newt found his eyes drifting to Thomas across the deck, he was laughing at something Minho said as they were laying out planks of wood in a square for… something that Newt didn’t want to know about.

“It’s not just for you,” Newt said, his voice soft as his eyes drifted across the Gladers and his heart ached; not for the glade itself but the people that got left behind along the way.

“So, what do you do without the fire?” Claire asked, squinting as the sun cracked from behind a cloud.

“Listen to music? Drink?” Newt suggested, catching sight of Brenda and Gally coming out of the door, heads thrown back in laughter. “Do something crazy?”

Claire’s lips quirked as she followed his line of sight. “Doing something crazy?” she said. “I think I can manage that.”

 .

“What’re they doing?”

Gally looked down, past the glass of brew in his hand to see Connor standing next to him, the top of his curly hair barely reached Gally’s hip.

“They’re wrestling,” Gally replied, his voice raised so he could be heard over the steady thump of the music as Minho and Thomas exchanged scrappy blows in the makeshift ring they’d put down earlier. “Well, sparring more like.”

“Fighting?” Connor shouted back. “Why?”

“They’re not fighting.” Gally knelt next to the boy, slightly unsure of what to say to him. “They’re practising, sort of. But see how when Minho hits him, he doesn’t really get hurt, they’re pulling their punches and it makes it fun. That and kicking the ball around is the closest we get to sports while on here.”

“I used to fight,” Connor said, a strangely pensive tone in his voice for a five? Six? year old.

“You did, huh?”

“Mmm hmm,” Connor said. “We had swords, not proper ones. But Flynn used to teach me how to use it and do tricks. He said it’s the same whether the blade is metal or wood.”

“Smart that,” Gally said, looking across at him. “What happened to them?”

Connor’s expression faltered. “The cranks came and we had to run,” he said, his voice soft and full of fear, “we had to leave all of our stuff behind. When they went back they said it was all ruined.”

Gally looked back to the sparring match with a sigh. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about that,” he said. Thomas stumbled backwards, his heel catching on the wooden plank that acted as a border and his ass hit the deck with a heavy thud but Gally’s eyes lingered on the piece of wood. “Ya know,” he said, looking back to Connor, “getting you another set wouldn’t be that hard.”

Connor’s head whipped around, brown eyes wide and nearly hopeful. The expression so different from the fear that filled his face just seconds ago. A part of Gally wished that he could bounce back as fast as kids seemed to.

“Where from?” he asked.

“We’ve got wood and tools.” Gally gave a half-hearted shrug, it’d been a while since he’d had tools in his hands, making something out of nothing.

 _“You’d_ make it?” Connor asked, sounding a little bit too shocked and Gally didn’t know whether he should be offended or not.

“Well, you could help?” Gally suggested, glancing briefly across at him as Harriet and Brenda stepped in the ring.

“I don’t know how,” he huffed stubbornly.

“I could show you,” Gally offered, watching as Brenda bent backwards, avoiding a high kick from Harriet that made Sonya cheer.

“Really?” Connor asked, the wide eyed look of hope returning.

Gally tore his eyes away from the fight, his lips twitching slightly. “Sure,” he said.

Connor looked away and shrugged slightly. “Alright,” he said, “I mean… if you want.”

Gally’s lips quirked in amusement. “Alright.” He didn’t miss the way that Connor smiled before darting off towards Claire as Gally rose back up to his feet. He watched as Brenda ducked under Harriet’s punch, twisting around to swipe her legs out from under her in a smooth move that made Gally’s lips quirk in an impressed and slightly aroused smirk.

“Urgh, alright,” Harriet said, tapping her hand on the deck, “I am too tipsy or too out of practice. Pick one. But I have a hot girlfriend and would rather not have broken fingers if ya know what I mean.”

Harriet pulled herself up off of the floor and stumbled into a blushing Sonya’s arms.

“C’mon,” Sonya said with a slight laugh, “let’s get you another drink.”

Brenda rolled her eyes, coming to stand with Gally, she swiped the cup from his hands, downing the rest of his drink with a slight grimace.

“Impressed?” she asked, tilting her chin back to look up at him with a teasing smile.

“Not bad,” Gally said with a slight shrug and Brenda grinned, her shoulder bumping against his.

“C’mon, it was good. Admit it,” she said.

Gally ducked his head down, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “You were good.”

As they pulled apart Brenda looked up at him with a soft expression and Gally remembered that this was just supposed to be a casual thing.

“Sorry,” he murmured, taking a slight step back. Brenda shook her head, her smile tightening slightly.

“It’s fine,” she said, brushing her hands down her pants, suddenly looking awkward.

“Right.”

“Right.”

“What’s right?”

Gally stepped slightly further back at Claire’s sudden question, she had a drink in each hand and she held them out to them both. Gally frowned and accepted it.

“Nice fight,” she said, looking at Brenda with a slight smile that made her eyes shine in the moonlight. The way it reflected off of the blue reminded Gally of the way it reflected off of the clear water at Safe Haven, it held certain softness but also had the potential for violence and rage.

“Thanks,” Brenda said, “I’m sure you know a thing or two yourself?”

Claire shrugged, glancing absently to the ring. “I don’t actually. I mean, I know the basics but I’ve always been better with a gun in my hand.”

“I could teach you.”

The words had left Gally’s mouth before he’d even fully comprehended them and he almost instantly wanted to punch himself for them.

“I mean, Minho, Fry, Newt, none of them would be able to throw a punch if it weren’t for me,” he said, which was a slight exaggeration but they didn’t need to know that.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Brenda said with a roll of her eyes. “We could all show you a thing or two if you wanted.”

Claire brought her cup up to her lips with a smile, her eyes lingering on Brenda as she took a sip. Gally was transfixed in the motion as Claire lowered the cup, brushing a stray drop of liquid away with the pad of her thumb. She caught him watching the interaction and winked. “I’m sure you two could show me a thing or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, the next chapter comes sooner this time!!

**Author's Note:**

>  **Group A Slang || Group B Slang**  
>  Greenie/Greenbean **||** Fedgling/Flee  
>  Shuck **||** Stick  
>  Shank **||** Shiv  
>  Klunk **||** Mut  
>  Slinthead **||** Muthead  
>  Slim it **||** Reign it  
>  Jacked **||** Screwball  
>  Deadheads **||** Whirlwoods
> 
> Find me on [tumblr?](http://purplepingupenguins.tumblr.com/)  
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated ♥


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